Mimicry
by the morrighan
Summary: Unexpected guests create havoc in more ways than one.
1. Chapter 1

Mimicry

Gold.

The ambient glow from the lights dotted the hallway of Atlantis. Circles of yellow marking out a precise distance from each other. Marking out each closed door to each room occupied by the inhabitants of the city. Leaving the rest of the hallway swathed in darkness. Not total darkness but a dark blue glimmer from the walls.

John Sheppard's footsteps echoed on the hard floor as he trudged along. Each step of his boots reverberating in the silent air. Making it sound like someone was following him, but he was alone. Reaching his destination he stopped. Stood. Stared at Moira Sheppard's door. He raised one hand, clenched in a fist. Mere inches from the barrier between them.

He glanced up and down the hallway, but it was deserted at this late hour. He waved his hand over the panel. But the door did not open. Was locked. He frowned. Debated. Knew he could just go to his room. To his bed. He knocked on the door. Knuckles rapping loudly. "Moira? Moira!" he called calmly. He knocked again, louder. Raised his voice. "Moira! It's me. John. Obviously. Moira!" He knocked again, fist pounding now. He smirked. "Moira? Moira Sheppard!" he half-sang after a swift glance around the hallway.

After a few minutes the door opened. John smiled as Moira stood, sleepily eying him. Long brown hair a tangled mess falling past her shoulders. Clad in a pair of sand-colored pajamas with a pattern of sabertooth tigers on them with a pair of fuzzy purple socks on her feet she appeared surprised. Adorable. "John?" she asked, for a moment thinking she was in a dream. His handsome face bore a smile, but he looked tired. Weary. Scruffy. Black t-shirt under his blue jacket. Blue pants. Gun in his thigh holster. Boots.

John gave her his best innocent expression. His best puppy-dog eyes. Pursed his lips in an almost pout. "Oh? Were you sleeping, honey?"

She smirked. "Hilarious, John!" She grabbed his belt, yanked him into the room. Shut the door. Hugged him. "John! Did you just–"

"Yes," he answered, kissing her. Freed her to smirk. "It was only afternoon on M1R579. I must say, Moira, those jammies are awfully cute, but not at all sexy."

"They're not supposed to be sexy, sweetie. This is what real women wear to bed when they are not expecting their lover to pound down the door," she remonstrated.

"Oh."

"Oh?" She laughed. Kissed him again, enjoying the feel of his lips, his mouth. The warmth. "You do know it's two am, colonel?"

"Yes. But as I said, it was two pm on M1R579. And you should always, always expect your husband to pound down the door, Moira Sheppard." He smiled at her beaming grin. "Still? Wow, baby. What's it been now? Three or four weeks since we–"

"Hardly any time at all, sweetie. Come to bed, John." She caught his belt again, drew him towards the bed. The blankets were pulled back from the pillows and sheets. Inviting. "You look exhausted, sweetie. Very worn out. But I don't see any bruises or scratches or cuts. What went wrong?" She sat on the bed.

John sighed. He removed his jacket, dropped it listlessly to the floor. Licked his lips. "What didn't? Another band of Wraith worshipers this time, but at least no actual Wraith. Unfriendly villagers, but at least no fucking harvest festival to endure."

"Well, that's something positive," she remarked, watching him.

"Yeah. The only thing," he grumbled. Pulled off his t-shirt, mussing his hair. He dropped the garment to the floor. Stretched languidly, as it to entice her but was oblivious as he worked out weary muscles.

Moira stared, gaze raking over him as he flexed his arms, his torso. Turning this way and that. Muscles rippling, receding as he moved. The city lights throwing faint light onto his arms, chest. Glinting on his skin, on dark body hair. On the wedding ring hanging on the chain with his dog tags. A golden circle submerged in coarse, dark hair.

"No Ancient tech, which Rodney complained about the whole time," John ranted, not noticing her desirous gaze. "No one to fight except the worshipers which Ronon complained about the whole time. No trading or any attempt at commerce which Teyla complained about the whole time. A total waste! Everyone was so fucking cranky." He stretched his arms over, then behind his head. Sat next to her. Untied his boots. Yanked them off and dropped them to the floor with a thud. "All I wanted to do was to get the hell out of Dodge and come straight to you. My Moira."

She smiled. Ran her hand up his bare arm. Kissed his shoulder. "And you have, John. Strange, everyone being so cranky. But not you?"

"Not me. I'm the nice guy."

"Oh, that's right. Let's get some sleep, sweetie. You look exhausted."

"Sleep?" He met her gaze, fingered the buttons on her pajama top. "Didn't I make myself clear, baby? I didn't come pounding on your door to sleep." He smiled. Eyes glinting suggestively. "I came to come."

"Hilarious, John. You are too tired, honey. And I'm going off world tomorrow. Remember? M19532. A creature sighting of some sort."

"Oh. Yeah. Right. Shit." Nevertheless he kissed her. A long, passionate kiss to part her lips. To taste her, tease her. His fingers plied the buttons on her top. Another kiss and he moved her onto her back. Followed. "I'll just remove you from that mission, baby. I can do that, you know. Military commander and all."

She stroked his face, his scruffy jaw. "No, you can't. Remember? No favoritism either way. You said so yourself."

"I did?"

"Yes. Along with the whole covert marriage thing."

"Damn," he mourned.

Moira kissed him. Hands running along his arms. His chest. She fingered the dog tags, the wedding ring. Saw his obvious disappointment, unhappiness. Loved him for both. "But we can still have sex, sweetie. You seem to need it."

He brightened considerably. "Oh baby, I do. I do!" he insisted into her ear. Ran his mouth down her throat. Then up to nibble her earlobe. Tickling. Pulling slightly. A gentle pressure. Hot breath tickling. Wet tongue teasing.

Moira murmured, reacting. Responding. She ran her hands down to undo his belt, his pants. He unbuttoned her top. Frowned at the pale chemise he encountered.

"Geez, baby, how many layers do you have on?" he complained, scowling.

She laughed at his consternation. Impatience. "I was cold, sweetie. So cold. Sorry, colonel, if I am not prepped for rapid deployment."

He smiled. Kissed her. "Don't you worry, baby. I'll have you prepped in no time." He pushed up the chemise, fingers running along her skin. "Ah...there." He caressed her bare breasts. Mouth quickly, quickly following.

Moira sighed happily, arching into his eager mouth, offering herself as she felt the desire flood, flood her body. She squirmed beneath him but he rolled off her. Sat to remove the rest of his clothes. "Ah, John, John....it feels like weeks since we've–"

"Had sex? I know, baby. I know!" he agreed, fingers flying to remove his pants, his shorts. He turned back to watch her wiggle out of her pajama bottoms. "Wait."

"Wait?" she asked, fingers pausing on her panties.

John smiled. Kissed her, running his hand up her thigh to touch the lacy blue material. "Hmm, baby...just like I want." He caressed, kissing her repeatedly. Fingers teasing, probing the increasingly damp material.

Moira squirmed, legs opening wider, wider as his fingers danced against her intimately. "John? Oh John, John," she wooed.

He ran his mouth down her throat, teasing her breasts again. Making her arch, squirm, gasp and whimper as the desire grew, grew. "Moira. I want a nice trophy while you are gone, baby," he teased. Groaned as his hardness tightened, throbbed impatiently.

"John, oh John. Oh John!" she gasped, moving but his fingers were relentless. Skilled. Bringing her closer, closer. Even through the fabric. His mouth captured each breast, each nipple to gently tug, tease. He shifted against her bare thigh. "John! John, what's taking you so long?" she demanded, impatient. Eager. She clutched at his arms.

He smiled. Lifted his head to meet her passionate gaze. "Oh? You are ready for full deployment, baby?"

"Hilarious, John! You–"

He yanked down the panties. Yanked them off her and shoved her legs wide. Thrust in suddenly, deep. Hard. Groaned with pleasure as he began to move faster, faster. A quick rhythm. "Tighter! Tighter, baby! Squeeze the fucking life out of me! Oh yes, yes! Fuck!" he exulted, giving himself over to the purely physical delights, sensations.

"Oh John! Quiet, quiet!" she warned, but his name escaped her lips in a loud whimper as he thrust, thrust faster. Rocking the bed violently. Kissing her repeatedly. Moira bent her knees, arching, moaning as he drove into her relentlessly. Creating wave after wave of pleasure. He strained and she cried out, the climax emptying in a burst of pleasure. "John! Oh John! Oh John, John, John!" she barely articulated.

"Fuck! Tighter, baby, so tight, so wet, so tight you yes, yes, yes!" he grunted. "Moira! My Moira! Mine!" He moaned loudly, shuddered as the release took him, gave him a burst of pleasure. He fell upon her. Relaxing as the tiny spasms jerked, jerked, then stopped. "Oh baby, baby...I so needed this! So needed this," he admitted happily.

Moira relaxed under him, straightening her legs. Caressed his back, his hair as she showered kisses on him. "John. Oh John...maybe you should come to my bed irritated more often."

"Our bed. Ours," he corrected, slipping out of her. Settling half on her. He kissed her. Caressed a breast. "Stay with me, Moira. Damn I wish you weren't leaving tomorrow. I want more. More sex. More time with you. More everything."

She smiled as he closed his eyes. "Me too, John. I've missed you."

He sighed. "This won't be enough by far. And I'm too tired to do it again. Right now."

"When I get back, sweetie. We'll have time."

"Will we? We'd better, baby. We need at least three or four sexual encounters to assuage our cravings. Maybe five."

She smirked. "At least, honey. Go to sleep."

* * *

John woke. He rolled, almost falling off the bed before catching himself. He had forgotten how close to the edge he was. Without Moira's body to brace him. He sat, bleary-eyed. "Moira? Moira!" He glanced at the clock. "Shit!" He sprang out of the bed, grabbed his earpiece. "Sargent, what's the status of Lorne's team?" he demanded.

"Colonel Sheppard, they are about to depart, sir."

"Belay their departure! Have Lorne stand down until I get there." He hastily pulled on his rumpled clothes, not caring.

"Yes, sir." The sargent hit the comm. "Major Lorne, you are ordered to stand down per Colonel Sheppard's orders."

"What? Why?" Evan Lorne asked. He frowned, eyed Moira as the event horizon glimmered behind them. Beckoning.

"What? I don't know why–" Moira began, as surprised as Evan.

He shook his head. "Nevertheless I am certain this involves you, O'Meara, in some way."

"I don't know why–" she repeated.

"Moira!" John's voice interrupted her.

Moira whirled as John strolled into the 'Gate room. He beckoned her. Waited. She walked over quickly, ignoring Evan's eye-rolling expression. "John? What–"

"Why didn't you wake me?" he asked in a quiet voice. Gaze taking in her green t-shirt, khaki jacket and pants. Pack slung over one shoulder. Ponytail in place.

She answered in an equally soft voice, "You were sound asleep, John. You needed it. And," she added with a loving smile, "you just looked too, too good to awaken."

He smiled. "Even so, Moira. You can stay here if you want to stay here. I mean, I can get you off this–"

"John, you know you can't. Remember? Besides, flyboy, you already got me off."

He grinned. "Yeah, well...I'd like to do it again. And again. What did I say? Six, seven more times? Moira, you know what today is, don't you?"

She smiled. "No, John. What is today?" she asked, playing along, irresistibly drawn. Although very aware of Evan's gaze boring into her back. Impatient to leave. But not daring to interrupt his commanding officer.

John stepped closer, said low, "Today is Moira's choice day. Chocolate or caramel? All over, everywhere, every place...no boundaries...only...bindings."

"Damn," she regretted as he licked his lips. Raised his brows in suggestive flirtation. Promise.

John chuckled. "Get that pert little ass back here ASAP, and keep it safe, baby. This day will be repeated, but only if you're back in a few."

"Promise, sweetie?" He nodded. She smiled. "As ordered, colonel. Get some rest, sweetie. Even you can't successfully deploy on only half stamina."

"Really? I thought I did last night, as I recall."

She touched his hand a moment, uncertain. "John." Deciding she quickly kissed him. A brush of her lips across his. Then she whirled and headed for the waiting team. All eyes on her, on them. Evan appearing impatient. Aaron Josephes appearing surprised. Thomas Kavanaugh looked bored, uninterested. "Okay, let's go," she said matter-of-factly.

"Aww...can't bear to leave lover boy?" Evan sarcastically noted, making her scowl. "Sir?"

"You have a go, major," John allowed. Watching them. Feeling the whisper of Moira's lips still on his. The ghost of passion.

"Finally," Evan muttered. With a gesture he led his team through the Stargate.


	2. Chapter 2

Mimicry2

Evan gestured as soon as he was through the wormhole. The matter stream disseminated as the rest of his team stood near the Stargate, staring round the unremarkable landscape of trees and hills. And more trees. "Josephes, take point. Kavanaugh, check for any kinds of readings. Let's head to the village and see what the fuss is all about." He began to walk alongside Moira. "You know, O'Meara," he deliberately taunted, "that was highly inappropriate behavior."

She frowned. "Deal with it, Evan. Or better yet take it up with your commanding officer," she suggested sweetly. "And stop calling me that," she added.

"Why? It's your name, after all," he stated, ignoring her suggestion. "Despite your fanciful fairytales otherwise."

"They are not fanciful–" she began, irritated.

"Despite your sweet affectionate parting from him. Here. Let's rush this mission so you can get back to lover boy."

"Shut up, Evan!" she flared, hating his mocking tone. His sarcasm. His disbelief. She moved away from him, strolled next to Thomas as they entered the village. "Anything?"

"No. Nothing so much as a blip on the screen," Thomas answered. "What's with the major now?" he asked quietly.

"Hell if I know," Moira muttered.

* * *

John sat in the conference room. Hands clasped on the table he appeared calm. Detached. Waiting. Clearing his thoughts, his emotions. Determining how best to proceed. He looked over at the doorway as Rodney entered, eyed him quizzically.

"John? Is there a–"

"Meeting? No, no meeting. I'm just waiting."

"Waiting? For what?"

"For whom. Caldwell."

"Oh? Oh." Rodney rubbed his temples. "Hey, did you get any sleep last night? I couldn't sleep a wink! This damn headache kept me up all night tossing and turning! I talked to Ronon and Teyla and they had the same problem. So I assume that you did as well."

"No."

"No?" Rodney sat next to him. "What do you mean, no? You were as cranky and irritable as the rest of us. Except for me, of course."

John barked a laugh. "Yeah, right, you're Mr. Congeniality. Was I cranky? I don't recall being as bad as you three." He rubbed his chin. "I did have a headache but it went away. I was out like a light last night." A smile came and went quickly, recalling the exuberant sex that had preceded his deep slumber.

"You were as cranky as us, believe me. Huh...that's odd, though, about the headache and getting sleep, I mean. What did you do differently than...oh...Moira?"

John nodded. Said nothing.

Rodney sighed. "Do you think something happened out there? To us?"

"On planet boring? No."

"Planet boring? Oh, I guess you just take being chased by hordes of Wraith worshiping idiots in your stride now? Of course you do. You know what's weird," he continued, oblivious to John's eye-roll, "we don't remember anything remarkable. Only the spectacular lack thereof, except when those stupid Wraith-lovers showed up and chased us out of town, but before that there was nothing. And all of our residual headaches, and bad moods. Remember when Moira and Lorne returned like that from a mission? They were worse than us, though, at each other's throats. A subsonic pulse created a severe memory alteration and blocked their true–"

"Nothing happened like that, Rodney," John was finally able to interject.

"No, not as severe, I agree, but I think something did. Okay, okay, I may be slightly overreacting here, but–"

"You? Overreact?" John quipped, as if shocked at the thought.

"Ha ha. Seriously, doesn't it strike you as odd?"

"What? Another boring planet with unfriendly Wraith worshipers and no advanced tech? It's not the first unhappy village we've encountered and certainly won't be the last. No wonder we're all in a bad mood," he grumbled.

"But you," Rodney pointed emphatically, "are not. Or rather you were, but weren't, and now aren't."

"Huh? I am now so that does make you happy?" John snapped. "You're giving me a headache," he added sourly.

Rodney frowned. "No! I am just trying to figure out why you are not as affected as we are!"

"There's nothing affecting us, Rodney! Carson cleared us, remember? You are being overly paranoid."

"Am I? What if we were subjected to some kind of minor mind wipe because we did in fact stumble upon something significant! Something sinister and–"

"You sound like you're in a B-horror movie, Rodney! Nothing happened to us, all right? Now calm down, will you? Go have Carson give you a full scan if you're so determined to–"

"I will, damn it, and so should you! I'm telling you, Sheppard, something happened to–"

"And I'm telling you, McKay, nothing whatsoever happened to us except for the astounding fact that we didn't die of boredom!"

A cough made the two men blink. They stared at each other, not realizing their voices had been raised, were full of ire. Not realizing they had moved to their feet. "Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard." Steven Caldwell entered the room, eyed them. "Doctor McKay, I need to speak to Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard privately."

"Privately?" Rodney asked, glancing from one to the other. "Fine. I'll go have Carson run a whole series of tests, just to be sure."

"You do that, Rodney," John agreed.

"What's he on about?" Steven asked, taking a seat.

"I don't know. Sir." John shrugged. After a moment he took a seat. "So....you've heard?"

* * *

Moira turned again. Stared back down the trail as it wove through the trees. She peered intently into the thick forest surrounding them. Massive oaks and elms shaded them, blocked the sunlight with a wide green canopy of leaves. Birches and maples whispered as the breeze blew.

"O'Meara!" Evan swore under his breath, trudged back towards her. "For the umpteenth time, there's nothing there!"

"Don't you feel that, Evan?" she countered, still staring hard at the leafy bushes. Dense trees. Lush undergrowth. "Someone is tracking us. Watching us. I can feel eyes on me," she said softly.

"And yet each time we've checked we've found nothing. Come on. You're as bad as the villagers. Spooked by non-existent creatures and shadows."

"Just because we didn't find any evidence of a creature doesn't mean someone isn't hunting us now! Don't you feel it?" she asked, shaking her head.

"The only thing I feel is annoyance," Evan quipped, scowling. "Now come on, O'Meara. We've wasted enough time here, don't you think?"

She sighed. Turned to follow him. "Fine! Stop calling me that, Evan! My name is Moira–"

"O'Meara, I know. What? Should I play along and call you Sheppard now? I don't believe–"

"No, you can't call me that now, but yes it is true! Damn it, Evan, I am Moira Sheppard now! John married me on–" She whirled, hearing a twig snap. Saw a bush move. "Did you hear that?"

Evan was at her side, gun raised. "That I did hear. And see." He shone the P90's light into the greenery. Abruptly a fox darted out towards them. It swerved, ran down the trail. A streak of burnished orange fur. The white end of its tail bright against the gloom until it was lost to sight.

Evan waited. Waited. Relaxed. "See? There's your stalker. A fox. Probably hungry."

"No." Moira was staring into the greenery. "It ran towards us, Evan. If we had spooked it the fox would have run away from us. Not towards us. It was running from whoever scared it."

"There's no one there, Moira," Evan assured, scanning the area quickly. "Come on." He drew her along the path. "And don't stub your toe again. I'd hate to have to report that."

Moira shook her head. "Evan! You are..." She stopped. Knelt as a glint of silver caught her eye. A stray shaft of sunlight had penetrated the canopy and its thin line of light crossed the rocky terrain.

Evan stopped. Walked back towards her. "Now what? Did you stub your toe?"

Moira ignored the jibe. Brushed the dirt off the gleaming glint of silver. She lifted a silver chain. Stared. "This wasn't here on the way down. I'm sure of it! See? This proves that someone is following us, and planted this here for us to find. For me to find,"she said softly, staring at the dog tags dangling at the end of the chain. She wiped them clean. Peered at the eroded name. "Evan." She stood, handed them to him.

Evan took them. "They look like they've been here for months, Moira. Definitely US issue, though. They could have been lost, or traded, or stolen, or–"

"No. The name. Look at the name!" she urged, glancing round the deepening shadows. She felt a chill. That creepy feeling that someone was watching her. Goose bumps erupted on her arms. A shiver stole along her back.

Evan peered. Squinted. "Shit." He met her gaze. "Ford?" He tapped his earpiece. "Josephes, hold up. We're coming to you. Kavanaugh, keep the flank with him. Form up."

"See? I told you–" she began.

"It still doesn't mean anything, Moira. It could mean nothing. If Ford was here wouldn't he have revealed himself by now? For all we know these could have been lost, traded, stolen. He could have been here months ago, or not at all. It doesn't prove we're being followed."

She snatched the tags back angrily. "Of course it does! They weren't here before! You have to radio John."

"No."

"No? Evan, this is significant intel!"

"That could mean anything. Come on." He led her up the trail. "If we tell Sheppard he'll just rush out here, won't he? For nothing. Or worse, straight into a trap. So don't tell him. I'll tell Weir and she can decide the best course of action."

"What? You can't keep this from John!" she argued. "I won't. I wish John were here," she grumbled, glancing over her shoulder. "He'd believe me. He listens to me. You used to believe me, Evan. You used to listen to my instincts. Evan?"

"I bet you wish he was here, Moira, but he's not. And I did trust your instincts before this whole charade of pretending to be married to Sheppard started. What? Dating the guy is not enough? That's not the impression he gave me."

"I'm not pretending, damn it!" She sighed, shoved past him. "Why do I bother?"

"Yes, why?" he echoed. "You can't tell him, Moira. Let me tell Weir first. I'm giving you an order, Moira. Remember how that works? Civvie or not when you are on my team on a mission you have to obey my orders."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she grumbled, but added, "except you are forgetting, major, that I only take orders from the colonel now. Remember how that works? And I won't keep this from him. I won't."

"You will, because it's an order," Evan calmly asserted. "Either comply with standard procedure or you are off the team."

She stared at him. Silent. Whirled and strode to her teammates who were watching the argument, staring in surprise. It was rare to see Evan and Moira at odds. Arguing. "Come on!" she snapped, leading the men towards the Stargate.

With an exchanged glance, a shrug, the three men followed after her.

* * *

John waited. Sat straighter in the chair. Hands clasped together on the table once more. He met Steven's assessing gaze with a noncommittal, mild expression. Finally Steven shoved a piece of paper towards him. John glanced at it. Recognized the registrar's seal, the signed documents making the marriage to Moira legal and binding. His messy scrawl. Moira's neater handwriting.

"This is above board. Official. Legal."

"Yes," John confirmed, although the words had not been formed into a question.

"And why the hell am I just learning of this? From Doctor Weir, no less?" Before John could answer Steven continued, "Did you know she was on the transfer list? The very day you returned from Earth?"

The quip _Who? Elizabeth? _came and went before it reached John's lips. Instead he replied, "Yes, sir." He adopted a slight subordinate tone. "Good thing we acted when we did."

"Yes. Hell of a coincidence, lieutenant colonel. But Doctor Weir assures me there is no way you could have possibly known beforehand. Unless someone at the SGC informed you."

"No, sir. No one at the SGC informed me," John stated truthfully. "Fact is no one there even knew that Moira and I were dating."

"Don't get me wrong, lieutenant colonel, I have no problem with Doctor O'Meara. My problem is with you. You damn well know the rules and regulations. The parties to inform of your intentions before acting upon them. Especially in this peculiar situation of being in an entirely different galaxy."

"Yes, sir. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing. Since we were both on Earth at the same time," John explained.

"At a funeral, but yes, I see your point. Still, you must have had an inkling of your intentions before you left Atlantis for Earth. I'm surprised Doctor O'Meara went along with it. Women usually want the whole dog and pony show."

John shrugged. "There wasn't time, sir. And as you said, our peculiar situation being in an entirely different galaxy and all."

"Problem is, Sheppard, her replacement's already been lined up. Now I have an nightmare of paperwork to endure rescinding Doctor Armandson's orders and maybe, maybe re-assign him to one of the SGC off world teams in our galaxy. Since he's already signed the non-disclosure act we have to do something with him. Frankly the IOA doesn't even see the need for one zoologist, let alone two on this mission."

"Moira knows more about the Wraith than anyone here except for Beckett," John noted.

"True. But the IOA sees things very differently from you and I, lieutenant colonel. Anyway, it doesn't matter now since you've secured her permanent assignment here. But as I am sure you know that presents a whole new set of concerns."

John inwardly sighed, glad that Moira was off world for this. Conversely wishing that she was still on Atlantis. "Yes, sir."

"And?" Steven asked. He sat back in the chair. It was his turn to wait. To watch.

John replied, "And there won't be a problem, sir. Demarcation lines are clear. Assignment of all personnel will always go through the proper channels."

"So far. Make certain it stays that way, lieutenant colonel. There are to be no exceptions. Unless there is a valid reason solely pertaining to the mission parameters."

"Yes, sir."

"And approved by Doctor Weir or myself, pending circumstances and availability."

"Yes, sir."

Steven detected the tired, irritated undertone. "Make no mistake, lieutenant colonel. I will be watching you like a hawk. As will the SGC. As will the IOA. The safe and secure functioning of this city should still be your top priority, your only priority. As is the deployment of each of your teams and the search for Ancient technologies and weapons."

"That hasn't changed, sir."

"Make certain that it doesn't. One wrong step, only one, and the IOA and the generals will be baying for your blood, have no doubt of that. You need to walk a fine line here between your professional life and your private life, between your job and your down time, between your duties here and your devotion to her." Steven paused, added almost as an afterthought, "Oh. Congratulations, Sheppard. And good luck. You're going to need it."


	3. Chapter 3

Mimicry3

Moira stridently strode to her room, angered by Evan's mockery, dismissal, orders. As soon as they had returned through the Stargate she didn't wait. Not seeing John she left the rest of the team and exited. Trying to push her emotions aside, to calm herself. She fingered the dog tags in her pocket. She longed for John. Longed to run to him, to see him. To feel him. To lose herself in his strong embrace, his warmth and his love.

She opened the door to her room, strode inside. Froze. Stared in disbelief. The room was completely empty. Stripped off all of her belongings. Devoid of all furnishings. As if she had never been there, never lived there. A chill coursed down her back. For a moment she feared she was in another Atlantis, an alternate version in which she had never existed. She darted to the bathroom but it too was empty. Stripped of her things. She returned to the main room, paused.

Two bottles stood on the floor. She knelt to them. A bottle of chocolate sauce and a bottle of caramel sauce stood sentinel. She relaxed. Relieved. She smiled and laughed. "John! John!" She looked round, expecting to see him but she was alone. She stood, lifted the two bottles. Amused and touched by his thoughtfulness, his playfulness and sudden decision to move her she laughed again. Moved to find him.

Moira stepped into the control room. Stopped seeing John locked in a discussion with Evan.

John was frowning. "And that was all?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Evan answered. "A creature hunt without a creature, basically. Chasing a phantom. Oh, and O'Meara stubbed her toe, but I did not radio that in the nanosecond it happened. Shall I fill out a report on that, sir?"

"Cute. Very. We debrief in thirty. Phantoms or not I want a full report. And yes, major, a complete analysis of how Moira stubbed her toe, why it happened under your watch and couldn't have been prevented, and steps to prevent said accident in the future." He glanced past Evan to see Moira hovering on the threshold. Moira smirked, held up the two bottles. John slowly smiled, nodded, but resumed his glare at his subordinate. "I also want a full report on the villagers."

"It won't be much fuller, sir," Evan remarked, realizing the quick change over John's expression was due to Moira entering the room. "O'Meara led us on a wild goose chase through the–"

"Doctor Sheppard was doing her job, major, whether you like it or not," John quietly corrected. "Dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Evan turned, saw Moira staring. Eyed the two bottles she quickly lowered. He shook his head, exited the room.

John moved to Moira, expression unreadable as he eyed her head to toes. But a smile hovered as he glanced at the two bottles. He met her gaze. "Moira?"

"John. John, where did my room go?" she asked.

He gestured for her to walk. She exited the control room. He strolled beside her. "Your room didn't go anywhere, Moira. Rooms can't move. It's right where you left it. Hmm..did you have a craving for ice cream?"

"John, where is my room?" she repeated, irritated at his flippancy.

"I told you, Moira, the room is right where you left it. I thought you were a scientist. Rooms can't move. It's physically impossible. Even I can't move a room, as skilled and efficient in all military methods as I am. Sometimes you puzzle me, baby."

"Hilarious, John." She hit his arm. "Where is my stuff?"

"Oh! Your stuff? Hmm...let me think." He was silent, trying not to laugh at her annoyed expression. "Hmm...your stuff. I know I saw it somewhere...somewhere in Atlantis, I think. It's right where it should be, baby." He led her down the hallways. "Made a decision yet?"

"What? How did you...oh...the sauces," she realized.

He glanced at her, quirked an eyebrow. "Yes. What wasn't I talking about?"

Moira was silent, slowing. "Your room?"

"Close. Here." He paused a door. Opened it. Gestured. "After you, sweetheart."

She smiled. Entered the room. Everything was here. Her room, as if magically transported. Everything in its place. She moved to the table. Set down her pack, the two bottles. Smiled at the one difference. Vases of roses filled the room. Scarlet on the table. Pink on the dresser. White on the bookcase. She felt a surge of tears. "How..."

"It wasn't easy, baby, believe me. But we got it done. Me and my men, that is. Exact to specs, I think. And I was involved the whole time, so nothing is missing. And no one went through your stuff, I promise. Not even me, although I was sorely tempted by that underwear drawer. But you know how I like your panties so I could resist the temptation." He wondered at her silence, stillness. "Look, Moira, I wanted to surprise you. Move you closer like you wanted, and still have your own personal space. See that opening, the doorway? Leads right to my room. I didn't see the need for a door there, I mean, we are married and all...so...anyway...adjoining rooms."

"It's...it's perfect, John. Perfect!"

"Oh. Okay. Moira? If you don't like it we can–" he began, her voice soft, full of emotion that made John wonder if he acted too precipitously.

She whirled, hugged him. "John! It's perfect, so perfect!" she whispered, holding onto him. Pressing her body to his. Feeling his lean body, strong muscles. Solid protection and warmth. She closed her eyes a moment as his arms slid round her.

John kissed her brow. Stroked her back. "Moira Sheppard. You want to tell me about it? We have to debrief in thirty."

She pulled back a little, only a little, and kissed him. A long, searching kiss. He responded. Returning her kisses. Tongue gliding in as her lips parted in wanton invitation. "John, oh John," she sighed. Pulled reluctantly from him. "I...we can talk later. About...anyway, I have to tell you."

"Okay," he said slowly, trying to guess the problem. "Tell me what?"

"John." She sighed, caught his hands and drew him to the bed where they sat. "I...I have to show you. You have a right, no, a need to know. While we were on the mission we were being followed. I was being followed. Evan didn't believe me but I knew, John! I knew! I could feel eyes on us, on me. The whole time. But Evan wouldn't believe me! He was too busy deriding my...he dismissed every instinct I had, every..." she caught herself, stared at the room. The roses. "But then we had proof. But he still didn't believe me!"

"Proof?" John asked quietly, gaze locked on her. Absorbing every word. Both said and not.

"Yes. Proof. Now, I know. I agree with Evan that it could mean anything. Or nothing. Or it could be a trap. But it wasn't there on the way down the ridge. I would have noticed it! But it was there on the way up the ridge. Planted for us, for me to find. But we can't jump to any conclusions, John."

"Proof?" he repeated.

She turned to him, gaze sad. Worried. She freed her hands, pulled out something from her pocket. Placed it in his hand. "This."

John looked down at the item. Stared at the gritty, worn dog tags. He held them up closer, squinted. Made out the name, the serial number. "Ford," he quietly noted. Going still. A host of emotion seized him and he bit back all of them.

"What does it mean, John? I don't think Ford was on the planet when we were there. He would have made himself known to us. Maybe he was there months ago. The tags are scuffed, tarnished. Indicative of being on the ground, or at least exposed to the elements for awhile. Or maybe Ford has never been to that planet. Maybe he traded them for supplies, or they were lost. Stolen." She shrugged, watching him.

John's gaze was riveted on the tags. "A soldier never removes these, not on active duty. Except in death. And whatever Ford considers himself to be now he is still a soldier."

"Yes, that's what I thought. Unless they were stolen."

"Or given. Let me think."

Moira waited. She scooted closer, nestled against him. Rested her head on his shoulder as his arm slipped round her, drawing her near. Keeping her close. His other hand still held the tags as he stared at them. Gaze narrowing, brow furrowing as he contemplated the possibilities. Mind racing over each one. Feeling Moira's warm, soft body pressed to his. Her head on his shoulder. Her hair tickling his jaw, his neck. Her trust and love washing over him.

"It's...it's a message," he finally pronounced.

"A message?" She lifted her head to stare at him. His fingers closed over the tags as he lowered his hand to his lap. He was staring ahead, at nothing. Handsome face full of gravity.

"A message intended for me. This...stalker. You never saw him? Or heard him?"

"No. Only once. A twig snapped, but a fox darted out of the underbrush. It could have been that."

"But you don't believe that?" he asked, hearing the doubt.

"No. The fox ran towards us, not away from us. We didn't spook it. The, the stalker did."

"Hmm."

"What are you thinking, John?"

"I'm thinking whoever it was...was highly trained. Left the tags for you to find. To bring to me. But not Ford. Ford would have known the quickest, most effective way to get me on that planet would have been to snatch you. He knows I'll come after you no matter what, even though he doesn't know everything about us. So that leaves either an ally of Ford's who doesn't know about you. Or an enemy. Or someone who knows I want to find Ford and wants to deal. But he wouldn't be parted from these willingly...unless it is a trap for me. Still..."

"John, what are you going to do?" she asked carefully, taking hold of his arm.

He met her gaze, pocketed the tags. Kissed her. "Moira. I'm not going to rush to that planet if that's what you're thinking. I probably would have once, but now...now..." He kissed her again. Kiss after kiss as he moved her onto her back. "Scoot up," he instructed into her ear. Ran his mouth down her throat. Soft, teasing kisses.

Moira scooted up to the pillows. He followed as she kissed him, ran her mouth along his jaw, his throat. Taking in the taste of him, the smell of aftershave, of John. "John, oh John...you...it could be a trap, sweetie."

"It probably is, baby, that's why we're going to wait. Figure this out from every angle first. I'm glad you told me."

"I..." She stroked his face. "Evan ordered me not to tell you. Until he told Weir. Said I'm off the team if I told you but no." She touched his lips. "I know you can't interfere. I understand. It was my decision to make. You had to know, John. You had to know."

He kissed her fingers, then her lips. Shifting on top of her. "I love you, Moira Sheppard. My Moira, I want to spend the night with you in our bed. So choose between chocolate and caramel, baby."

She smiled. "John! If we...I mean...if you...John, he's not...he's not the lost lamb you can bring home to the flock. You know that, don't you? I mean...I mean...I know you want to save him, you need to save him, but...but..."

He kissed her, cutting off her serious voice, her serious concerns. "I know, Moira. Try as I might to deny it, I know. He's not the lieutenant I knew. He's not the boy I knew any more." He sighed. "But I have to try. To save him. If I can. But if I can't..." He left the option unsaid.

Moira kissed him, stroking his jaw, his cheek. Drawing his body to hers, his mouth to hers. "I'm sorry, John." She circled his ear, gently bit to make him shift on her. "Sweetie...do you have a preference between chocolate and caramel?"

He laughed gently. "No, baby. It's your choice."

"Hmm..okay. I wish we had time now," she mourned, enjoying the feel of him. Having all of his attention, affection. The intimacy. "John, oh John," she wooed, moving under him. Sliding her body to align with his in erotic invitation. Suddenly wanting, needing. Longing. Kiss after kiss, as if distract him from his duties, from the mission report. To keep him solely hers.

"Moira," John managed to say as he broke his mouth from hers, "we really should go to–"

"Not yet, John, not yet," she urged, kissing him. Sweet, deep kisses as she shoved her body against his. Hands running down his arms. Up his back, fingers shoving under his shirt to feel his bare skin. "Oh John, John, just you. Me. Now. We–"

He kissed her, tempted to do as she wanted, as she needed. But recalling Steven's cautionary words he reluctantly stated, "We have to debrief first, I know, baby. Before I can de-panty you." She laughed. He smiled. "Let's go. Let's hear this mission report and what's not said." He sat, sighed. Moved to his feet. Turned as she stood, pulling down her shirt he had rumpled. He drew her against him, kissing her again. "Then you can tell me what else is wrong."

"John? I–"

"Later, sweetheart, although I have an inkling." He freed her. Led her out of the room.

"John, you, you'll be going tomorrow, won't you?"

"Yes, with a full team." He glanced at her. "Don't you worry. Forewarned is forearmed. To be honest I'm more concerned over your choice."

"Choice? I had to tell you, John, even if it meant I'm off the team and–"

"No, not that, baby. Don't you worry about that. I meant your choice. Chocolate or caramel," he teased, smiling at her. "The suspense is killing me."


	4. Chapter 4

Mimicry4

John ushered Moira up the stairs. Hand at the small of her back as he guided her reluctant footsteps into the conference room. He adopted a neutral expression. "No." He drew her to sit next to him near the head of the table. "Here."

"Fine." Moira sighed, but stared at her hands as Evan, Elizabeth Weir and Steven filed into the room. John's hand on her thigh made her start, look up to meet his gaze. He smiled. Slid his fingers up to her knee, then moved his hand back to the table's surface. Moira noted the change in him, from lover to colonel as the others took their seats. She shifted in her chair, studiously eyed the data screen in front of her.

John sat back, not quite lounging in the chair with Steven in the room, but close enough as Evan began his succinct report. He noted the disparities with what Moira had told him. He could feel the dog tags in his pocket. Could feel Moira's tension beside him. "So..." he said as Evan finished talking, "a non-existent creature as far as you could tell."

"Yes, sir," Evan answered. "The villagers appeared sincere enough, but we couldn't find a trace of any creature. No evidence except what they told us."

"Were they sincere?" John asked, suddenly sitting straighter. Leaning towards the table now. "Or did they deliberately lure you there?" Elizabeth started at the question. Evan glanced at Moira who was staring at the data pad. "Yes," John confirmed. He fished out the dog tags and dropped them into view on the table. "Moira told me. She did she thought was right. And she was right to tell me. So , in lieu of this evidence, looking back can you honestly say the villagers were sincere, or in collusion with persons unknown?"

Evan eyed Moira. "I told you to wait. No, I ordered you to–"

She met his gaze. "He has a right to know."

Evan considered the question. "They seemed sincere. Looking back they were genuinely terrified. Of something." He shrugged. "Whether a creature or threatening strangers...I can't say."

"Moira?"

Elizabeth's voice jolted Moira and she looked at the other woman. "I agree with Evan's assessment. Although, although they did seem awfully eager to get us into the forest. But at the behest of strangers or honest fear of a creature I can't say."

"Since you were followed, and given this message, however surreptitiously let's assume the villagers are in collusion. Willingly or not it doesn't matter," John decided.

"Message?" questioned Steven.

"Obviously. Or an invitation. For me," John clarified.

"John, you can't be rushing to that planet–" Elizabeth began to chide.

"Recklessly?" he finished for her, meeting her gaze. "No. I won't. We wait a day. Let them stew. They'll be more likely to make a mistake that way. Then I'll go in with a full team."

"Two teams, one cloaked as back-up," Elizabeth stated.

John nodded. "Fine. But we don't want to spook him, them, whatever."

"Lieutenant colonel, need I remind you of my standing orders regarding former Lieutenant Ford?" Steven asked, voice grave. "He is to be shot on sight. Or apprehended. Either way he must be in our custody. He has too much valuable intel to be left out there any longer. His very existence compromises the safety of both this city and its personnel."

"Yes, sir," John agreed. Voice calm. Dispassionate.

Nevertheless Steven eyed him. "I'm serious, lieutenant colonel. Standing orders. No exceptions. None. Over Ford. Understood?"

"Yes...sir," John repeated, with a slightly longer pause between the two words.

"I'm afraid I agree with Colonel Caldwell at this juncture," Elizabeth stated. "From your earlier encounters with Lieutenant Ford he is clearly not the man we knew. Moira, didn't you say his brain chemistry was altered?"

Moira broke from her random musings. Mind not on the conversation at all but on John. On John's kisses. The feel of his mouth on hers. The motion of his lips along hers, along her skin. The feel of his tongue penetrating her lips. She glanced at him. He met her gaze, raised a brow as if guessing her thoughts. She looked at Elizabeth. "Yes. Altered by several factors. The enzyme. The experimentation. And now with a regenerating arm bonded with Wraith tissues..."

"He's more dangerous than ever," Elizabeth concluded. "I'm sorry, John, but I don't think we can save him. Even if we somehow managed to wean him off the enzyme too much has happened to him."

"So that's it? We just shoot him on sight?" Evan asked, frowning. Looking from one to the other in disbelief. "He's one of us!"

"Was one of us, major. Not any more," Steven corrected. "Those are your standing orders. Lieutenant Colonel?"

"Yes, sir," John replied calmly.

"I suggest your team be made up solely of marines. Except for Ronon. He can track whomever is behind this...message."

"I agree, sir." John considered. "I'll need Peterson, since he's a sharpshooter. And Reynolds. Lorne can head the team in the cloaked Jumper."

"Yes, sir," Evan agreed. "I'll take Josephes, Andrews and Wilson."

John nodded. "Fine. We'll leave at oh seven hundred." He lifted the dog tags, put them back into his pocket.

"I don't want to have to reiterate the importance of this mission, should Ford surface," Steven said sternly. "I won't tolerate any more mistakes. How many times have you had him in your sight, Sheppard, only to lose him?"

"It won't happen again, sir."

"That's not fair!" Moira blurted, continued, ignoring the surprised faces, "The last time we saw Ford he was being taken away by those cave creatures! No one expected him to survive much less arrange for a bizarre surgery! And when we saw him again there wasn't time to–"

"Moira," John said quietly, watching her. Amused, touched by her defense.

"Nevertheless, Doctor O'Meara, oh, excuse me, I guess it is Doctor Sheppard now?" Steven smiled briefly, continued, "he has slipped your husband's clutches far too many times now. We can't allow it to happen yet again."

"It won't, sir," John assured. Glanced at Evan who was staring at Moira open-mouthed. Dumbfounded by the confirmation. John had to look down to hide his satisfied smirk.

Moira was eying Steven. "Still, you can't lay all of this at John's door. We don't know how altered Ford really is. There could always be a chance he could be saved, redeemed, with the right treatment and therapy–"

"That's not what you said earlier, doctor, or need I remind you? While such compassion is admirable, even more so considering that man kidnaped you, hit you, even tried to kill you the cold hard facts are simple. He's a danger to Atlantis and its personnel and must be eliminated."

Moira frowned. "But think what we could learn from him! He knows more about the Wraith enzyme, all of the enzymes than anyone! He's able to access some of their technology now, and he's had access to Ancient technology we haven't encountered yet. And there's the man himself, the incredible bonding of the tissues and DNA of both human and Wraith indicative of an entirely new possible species, or at the very least a new way to fight them, if we can turn him back to our side, that is, if he ever left it."

"That's a pretty big if, doctor. The risks are too high. If we can capture him and bring him back here, fine. But if not he must be eliminated. Frankly, this is not a decision on which I need your expertise."

"Of course it is," John stated. "Moira's had more contact with Ford than any of us. Except for me. So if anyone can determine his state of mind, or susceptibility to being persuaded to return to us, it is her. Notwithstanding any previous orders, sir."

"I think we're all agreed, more or less," Elizabeth noted. "I'll adjust the schedules and move some personnel to cover the holes in the respective teams. I think we're done here." She stood.

"Yes, I believe we are," Steven concurred, also moving to his feet.

"Wait, wait, so...so it's true?" Evan asked, eying Moira. Eying John who merely smiled. Eying Steven who rolled his eyes, as if it should be obvious. Eying Elizabeth who smirked.

"If you are referring to John and Moira, then yes," Elizabeth said.

"Although he is not out of hot water yet," Steven reminded.

"You...you are really married to–" Evan stammered.

"That guy?" Moira asked, pointed at John. She stood. "Yes. I've been telling you and telling you but you never believed me." She looked at John who was smiling broadly now, reclining back in his chair. Arms folded over his chest. "Lunch. Then yours." He nodded. "Oh! Ours," she corrected with a smile. Exited the room.

"Shit," Evan muttered. "Sorry." He ducked out to pursue Moira.

Elizabeth laughed. "I take it he didn't believe her?"

"Apparently not," John answered. "No one does." He shrugged. "Can't imagine why." They shared a laugh. "Although that is good, for now, I mean."

"Just watch your step, John. The IOA will be calling soon. As will the rest," Elizabeth warned.

"Yeah. Can't wait," he noted sourly.

* * *

Moira sat at a table in the cafeteria, eating. Ignored Evan as he joined her. Waited as he hesitated, uncertain as to what to say. She wasn't about to help him and instead enjoyed her food.

"Um, Moira. Moira...I...I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Evan finally blurted. "Why did you let me make a complete ass of myself?"

Moira shrugged. "Your call, not mine. I told you. Repeatedly. But you wouldn't listen."

"I know. I'm sorry! I just never figured...I mean...I knew you were dating and all... I mean, Sheppard made damn sure of that so...but...but I didn't know it was so serious. Between the two of you, I mean. As to...I mean...all in one day? Like that? Proposal, engagement and wedding?"

Moira nodded. Met his expression of consternation. Brows furrowed over his blue eyes.

"And all of that you told me was true? Keeping it quiet? Under wraps for now? Problems? From above? The IOA?"

She nodded again.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Moira! Really! I just couldn't believe...I mean, no disrespect to you, but him? He actually loves you enough to settle down with you? Only you? All of the time? Only you?"

"Shocking, isn't it?" she sarcastically noted. "Just keep talking, Evan, and see if you can make the hole you're in any deeper."

He grinned. "Sorry. Really. Geez! So...what do I call you? Sheppard? That's going to be weird."

She smiled. "Call me Moira. That's my name. We have to keep it quiet for now, remember?"

"Oh, right. Congratulations, then! I guess."

She shook her head. "Geez, Evan, your sincerity is quite overwhelming."

"Sorry! I'm still in shock, I guess...I mean...are you sure? You want to be married to him?"

"Stop talking, Evan, okay? Eat. Eat while you're still ahead. Barely."

He grinned. "Okay, Moira. Oh....about earlier...I...you're still on my team. If you want to be, that is."

"That would be nice, thank you."

"Sorry. I just...I mean...you...you and him?"

"Eat!" she ordered, sighed.

* * *

John sat at a table in the cafeteria, witnessing the humorous exchange between Moira and Evan. Satisfied he began to eat his food. Enjoying the solitude until Rodney joined him.

"So. I heard."

John finished chewing, waited. "Heard?" he finally, reluctantly prompted.

"Yes. Ford. Hell of a message, isn't it? At least it didn't involve our team members like the last one did. Of course I'm going with you."

"No. You're not."

"Of course I am," Rodney insisted. Pointed. "You can't go face Ford on your own!"

"I'm not. Two teams. Marines. And Ronon. Purely military. Sorry, Rodney, you get to miss this one."

Rodney set down his fork. "Are you crazy, John? It's obviously a trap! Set by Ford or someone working with him, or an enemy, or–"

"I know. We've discussed every angle, and will do so again."

"We? Who is we? Caldwell? Please! He has no experience of Ford or the–"

"No."

"Oh. Look, John, you don't know how Ford thinks now. He's nearly certifiable! He's–"

"One short of a six-pack, I know. Better than that I know who has had the most contact with him and can advise me."

"Who?"

John shook his head. "Think, Rodney! And let me eat. I've got things to do." He smiled, recalling Moira's passionate defense of him. Recalling the feel of her body along his. Her soft, sweet kisses. Her mouth soft, moist, teasing. Verging on surrender as his tongue penetrated.

"Well? Are you going to answer me?"

"Well? What?" he asked, pulling back from the increasingly erotic images in his head.

"I asked since it must be Moira are you taking her with you?"

"What? No, of course not! It's far too dangerous! No."

"Good. That's something."

"You think I'd place her in harm's way? Ever?" John asked tersely.

"Well, no...but you've been so...strange, and preoccupied lately. Not to mention our elaborate hoax over marrying her just to win Carson his five dollars."

"Pay him!" John finished, downed his beer. Said low, "For the last time, Rodney, I did marry Moira. So pay Carson and keep it to yourself for now."


	5. Chapter 5

Mimicry5

"Moira!" John bellowed once he was in his room. He moved to hers. Moved back to his, swore at the emptiness. Then saw the bottle on the table. He neared, smirked. A bottle of caramel sauce stood there. A note was taped to it. The words _sex room _crossed out. The words _love nest_ printed beneath. Written smaller was the legend _clothing optional._ John grinned. Snatched the bottle from the table. "Ah, baby, this had better not be a joke," he muttered.

He all but sprinted to the secluded tower room.

Moira stood admiring the view. The ocean spread spectacularly beneath her. A wild, white-capped expanse of blue-green waves. The city spread in various directions, like the petals of a flower, dotted with tall spires. She heard the sound of pounding boots on the iron steps. The iron grating ringing. The door opened, closed. She turned, smirked. "Geez, sweetie! I'm glad you got my note and all but do you have to charge up here and alert all of Atlantis?"

John laughed, gaze devouring her. Her loose hair billowed along her vivid green t-shirt that reached down to her bare thighs. He had caught a glimpse of lacy, skimpy green and blue panties before she had turned to him. "Ah, baby..." He waved the bottle as he reached her. "Caramel's an excellent choice. As for clothing optional...I can remedy that ASAP."

She smiled. "I'm glad you brought the topping." She leaned down, lifted a carton of vanilla ice cream. Swirled the spoon. "I only wanted some caramel for my ice cream, John," she said innocently. Tilted her head. "What on Earth did you think I wanted it for?" She laughed at his playful scowl. "Colonel...will you top me?"

He grinned. Poured some into the carton. "Absolutely, baby. Over and over. So...am I good enough to nibble? Please say yes, baby. All over."

"Taste." She fed him some. Ate some more. "Hmm...good?"

"Not as good as it will be. Good idea, baby. It will glide more easily in ice cream on skin." He took the carton from her. Took her hand. Drew her to the pile of blankets on the floor. Abruptly yanked her into his arms. Kissing her. Setting the carton down awkwardly.

"John, oh John...you...Caldwell wasn't–"

"No." He touched her lips. "Not here. Only sex talk here, Moira. Only sex." He smiled. "Oh baby, what I want to do to you..." He fingered her hips. Touched the panties.

She smiled, stepped back from him. "I think I should go first, sweetie. Don't you?" She sat on the blankets, stirred the melting ice cream. Added more caramel. "We wouldn't want you to deploy prematurely."

"I don't know about that...extra topping?"

He laughed at the face she made. "Oh, ew! John!"

He sat close, kissed her lengthily. Hands roaming. He pushed her onto her back. "Oh baby..." He laughed. "Shit. You could be right after all. Let's do a test run and see."

"A test run?" she asked, sat as he removed his boots, his socks. She ran her fingers through his hair, messing it further. Ran her mouth over his jaw, up to circle his ear.

He moaned. "Damn, baby, hang on a sec, would you?" he teased. She laughed.

"Sorry, John. What's taking you so long?"

He grinned. "You. Far too distracting. Let me get my clothes off, okay? Then test me to see if you–"

"I'm going first, flyboy. I'm going to do things to you, John Sheppard, that should get you off in every kinky way," she wooed into his ear. Gently nibbled. Bit. Nails running on his back.

He sighed happily, removed his shirt. Stood to remove his pants. "I like this mood, Moira. Don't lose it. So...are you going to go tie me up?"

"No. I don't think you could handle that as well, John. You'd break that pipe. Did you see it?" She pointed. "You'd probably break the wall with those lean, strong muscles of yours. Those bulging biceps."

He smiled. Sat, leaving on his boxers. "Damn, Moira, just you wait. What I am going to do to you will put you off caramel forever...but I hope not. Good thing we're in the sex room."

"Love nest," she corrected.

"Whatever. Well?" He laid back, smiling. "Ah, baby, top me. Top me with that caramel. Whatever, wherever you desire. And if you go all the way down on me I swear I will come so hard I'll break the wall, tied to it or not."

"Hilarious, John!" She kissed him. Again. Again. Dribbled a little caramel on his throat. "This is all I wanted, John. To nibble. To lick. To make you hard. Rock hard," she breathed into his ear. Circled it with kisses. Licked down his throat slowly, tasting caramel. Tasting him. She nibbled gently.

John groaned, shifting. Touched her arm, her hair. "Fuck, fuck, oh Moira...again. More. Harder."

"Hmm...isn't that my line, John?" she teased, but repeated her actions. She kissed his mouth, over and over. Nibbling his lower lip until he groaned. He slid his hands under the shirt. Encountered bare breasts, no bra to impede him.

"Ah ha, colonel! Wait. Not yet." She kissed down his throat. Chest. Dribbled the caramel on his waist. Kissed and licked.

"Oh God..." he groaned, moving. Smiled. "We have lift-off, baby. You had better let me go next. All over you, all over you...baby...oh fuck that is good!"

She slid up, kissing him again. Sighed dreamily. "Oh John, I could just kiss your mouth all night. Your lips, your mouth...your–"

"You better do more, baby," he warned, kissing her. "Go down, Moira, please...just the thought makes me so fucking hard...Moira..."

She kissed him, dribbled some caramel on his inner arm. Kissed along the muscle, the skin. He moaned. "I'll try, sweetie, but I don't know if I–"

"Do whatever you can, baby. Whatever you can," he insisted. Shifting again as her body pressed to his. So warm. So soft.

She smiled, nibbled his throat again. "I love you, John," she whispered into his ear. She moved down, down, hands sliding. Caressing as she kissed. Dribbled the caramel, the ice cream. Licking his side, his waist. Teasingly nibbling along his pelvis. Down his hip. He groaned loudly, swore, shifted under her. Caught in anticipation, desire, pleasure. Her mouth wet, warm on his skin. She licked the caramel along his thigh. Up, up, so close he felt himself tightening, jerking in reaction. His hands clenched the blankets on either side of him.

"Moira, my God...Moira...I can't hold it..." he said hoarsely.

"Yes, you can, colonel," she wooed. Caressing him now. Hand moving up and down his increasingly erect cock. "Easy, colonel, we don't want early deployment of your ordnance."

"You're killing me, Moira," he groaned, but happily. "Fuck! Fuck, do me, baby! Do me so hard!" he nearly shouted, throbbing in response to her seductions. Wanting her so badly it nearly hurt.

"Oh? Should I stop, John?" she teased, sliding up to kiss him. Pulled back before he could thrust his tongue into her mouth. "Did I hear the safe word?"

"No. God, no, Moira...oh baby...you..." He moaned loudly as she kissed his waist again. Lower, lower, nibbling. She yanked down his shorts and dribbled the caramel onto his engorged cock. He jerked, reacting. Grunting in ecstacy as she stroked, stroked. Steeled herself and ran her tongue up and down. Tasting the ice cream, the caramel, the salty taste of his warm skin.

John jerked, spasms rocking him as he watched her. He groaned, a nearly feral sound. He fell back as he was inundated with pleasure. The orgasm coming hard, fast as her mouth kissed, licked him carefully. He nearly lost his breath as her fingers played along his thighs, intimately tickling, teasing. Her mouth closing, circling the head at last. Nibbling almost daintily. He groaned, thrusting. Thrusting up, up, in, not knowing whether it was her mouth or her thighs or between her legs as her hair concealed it all from him. He could only feel the vivid sensations as he came, came hard, fast. Shuddering into something warm, snug, wet. Sliding, jerking wildly as she tightened on him the way he liked. The way he craved. Almost painful but overwhelmingly pleasurable.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he swore hoarsely, as she was riding him now, so tight on him, sliding up and down the whole length of him. He grunted, groaned loudly, racked by spasm after spasm. "No! Moira, don't stop! No!" he complained as he strained, thrusting, feeling himself slide free of her.

Moira slowly sat, opened her hands where he had been. She wiped her mouth, wiped her hands on his thighs. She scooted up next to him, laid back. Her face was flushed, brown eyes wide. She propped herself up to grab a water bottle. Sipped. Spat. Repeated. "Damn," she whispered.

"Moira," he said weakly, happily. "Moira, will you marry me? Oh yeah...you did."

"Lovely, John. Another post-coital–"

"Your turn, baby, in ten, fifteen...I swear...damn..." He sat, reached over her to take the bottle of water. To drink. Sloppy gulps. He eyed her. Touched her scarlet cheek. "Are you all right, sweetheart? You just got me off in spectacular fashion!"

"John...I could have broken a tooth."

He laughed heartily, her voice serious.

"John! I'm serious! My God...that...that...it's so big, so long...so..."

"Yeah, baby." He kissed her. A long, passionate kiss. Trailed over to her ear. "Best fucking orgasm of my life," he intoned low. Kissed down her throat. Up again to nibble her earlobe. She shifted, murmured. His hands ran along her body. "Off. Now."

"You said ten or fifteen–"

"I can at least work on prep, baby. My Moira..." He kissed her again, reclined lazily to watch her sit. Pull off the t-shirt. She laid down. He smiled. Caressed her cheek, angling her mouth to his. Again. Again. Slow, sweet kisses as his tongue slid to tease, to probe. To tickle hers as his mouth captured, demanded. Her hand ran up his arm as he stroked her hair. He leaned back to grab the caramel and ice cream. "You better hold onto something, Moira. I'm about to return the favor. Double scoops."

She smiled. "John...you...oh!" He dribbled some on her throat, her breasts, her waist. Moved to kiss her repeatedly as she shifted, succumbing to his seductions. His mouth moved to her throat, then down. Tracing her collarbone, her shoulder. Down as his hands stroked her sides. Caressing down to her hips.

Moira lost herself, arching and moaning as he kissed, licked around each breast, between them. Dribbling more caramel, more ice cream to devour along with the taste of her skin. Her fingers played in his hair as he kissed, circled, teased each rosy nipple to hardness. Suckled gently, nibbled to make her squirm, gasp. "John! Oh John, John, please, please!"

"Soon enough, baby, I promise...you are so fucking sweet," he wooed, dribbling more and more on her. Licking down her waist, along the scar. Along her hips. Dribbling more along her thighs. Kissing and licking as his fingers played, probed along the panties. She squirmed, whimpered as he was arousing her wildly. Her lower body tightening, tensing. Flooding as he persisted. His scruffy jaw scratching deliciously along her inner thigh. His tongue doing amazing things to her skin. "John!" she gasped.

He looked up at her, smiled. Licked his lips. "Baby, you might want to hold onto something. Seriously. Tight, real tight."

"John? I...you..."

He smiled, slid up to kiss her mouth again. Hungry, probing. Then he slid back to yank the panties down, down, off, dribbled the caramel and ice cream lavishly onto her. Moira cried out as the cold, sticky sensation hit her. She squirmed, arched, grabbed at his shoulders. "John! Oh John, John, you, you–"

"Hold on tight, now, Moira. So fucking sweet," he growled. He kissed along each thigh. Shoved her legs apart. Fingers caressing, teasing. Sliding under her to suddenly grab, squeeze her rear. She squealed, arching, lifting helplessly as he kissed and licked. Circled her pelvis, her mound, fingers stroking intimately before he lunged onto her, into her. Speedily sucking ice cream, caramel, her as he probed and delved deeply.

Moira cried out, inarticulate as he brought her, brought her with his fingers, his mouth, his tongue finding its target and ruthlessly attacking it. He thrust deep, hard, as deep as he could, grunting with the possession. She clawed the blankets, squirming, legs shaking, knees bending. "Oh John! John, please, please, John! John! Oh God, oh God! John, John, John!" she shouted, begged, nearly sitting up as the orgasm slammed with a throbbing pleasure. Over and over. She lost her breath, unable to breath, to speak. Only whimper and sob as he brought her intensely. "John!" she rasped.

He freed her, breathing heavily. Rested a moment, head on her waist. "Fuck...I am rock hard, now...those sounds, Moira. You make those sounds...so fucking sweet...you are so fucking sweet and wet and I have to have it! I have to take all of you, now."

"John...you...oh my God...you..." She lost her breath, cried out as he abruptly thrust inside her. Hard and deep. Groaning with relief. "John!"

"I need full fucking throttle, Moira...full fucking intercourse oh fuck that is sweet!" he growled. He kissed her breasts. Nibbled, bit gently as he thrust, thrust harder, faster now. About to explode with lust, need.

Moira writhed beneath him, open, ready to receive all of him as he created a fast, fervent rhythm. "John! Oh John, John...yes! Yes, John, yes, please, yes!" she cried as the climax hovered, hovered within her. "Oh John there, there! Oh God! Yes, yes, John!" she arched, nearly screamed as the climax exploded within her, within him as he moaned loudly.

"Moira! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fuck that is fuck!" John groaned with relief, possession. Pounding her into the blankets, into the floor as his body demanded more, more, more. He shuddered, nearly shaking with the release, the flood of orgasm in her, in him. He ejaculated wildly and finally slowed, slowed. Fell upon her in sheer exhaustion, pleasure. "Fuck," he muttered.

"John, oh John..." Moira whispered. She swallowed. Ran her nails down his back. Her mouth catching his, his throat as he shifted up, on her body. She circled his ear, bit. He caressed a breast, fondling. Kissing lazily as he settled on her.

"I can't...give me a sec...no, two..."

"Full...you're so deep inside me, you still are..." she commented, voice hoarse. "John, my God!"

He smiled. "Yeah, I know, baby. Fuck. So sweet...so deep. So mine. Just a sec...I can't move yet. Moira...wow. Clench it."

She closed her legs some, muscles clenching over him until he groaned. "Maybe I'll just keep it, John. It's so deep."

"I'd be happy to stay, baby...so sweet in there. But I'm already losing ordnance." He smirked. Abruptly slid out of her. He kissed her. Repeatedly until he rolled them over, held her on top of him. "So..Moira...was that the best?"

"The best," she agreed tiredly.

"Hmm...I'm obsessed with caramel now."

She laughed. "Don't. We're not doing this kinky stuff again. At least not for awhile."

"Damn..." he tiredly noted. Caressed her back, her hair. She lifted to kiss him gently. Savoring his mouth, his lower lip. His tongue. She stroked his face. She fingered his dog tags, the wedding ring. "John..."

"No." He kissed her, eyed her breasts pressing on him. The wedding rings on her chain caught between them. "No post-coital talking. Unless it's sexual. New rule. As in how amazing I am. How I rocked your world, baby."

She smiled. "And how I rocked yours?"

He laughed. "Yeah."

"You are amazing, John! Your tongue should be listed as lethal ordnance."

"Just my tongue?" he asked, as if offended. She laughed. He smiled. "So should yours, baby. Along with that pert little ass and those beautiful, beautiful tits."

She hit his arm. "Nice." She sighed. Settled on him. Traced her fingers along his chest. "John..."

"No. I know that tone, baby. Don't."

She smiled. "Oh John," she enthused, "did you ever do this with your lots some women?"

"No. And we're not going there either, baby."

She sighed. "Sweetie," she complained, "I was just wondering. Don't fall asleep!"

"Not yet..." He looked up at the colored lights in the air above them. Down as they played along her naked body pressed to his. Smiled. "Hey, is there any caramel left?"

"What?" She raised her head. "You've got to be–"

"Kidding you? No. I told you. All over. You. All over."

"No." She slid off him, rolled onto her stomach to grab the water. Sipped. "Here."

He sat, drank thirstily. Eyes on her body. He smirked. Laughed. "Socks."

She smiled "Yes, flyboy, socks."

"I love it!" He grabbed the sauce, moved onto his side. Swept her hair over her shoulders.

"John? You–" She began to move.

"No. Moira...I have to have that. That pert little ass." He dribbled the caramel onto her back, down to her rear.

"Oh boy," she muttered.


	6. Chapter 6

Mimicry6

Moira shifted on the blankets. The weird sensations of caramel, of ice cream being dribbled onto her back, her rear made her hot and cold all at once. Made her grind, writhe against the blankets as she lay on her stomach. Propped up on her elbows. "John? John...I...um..."

"Easy, baby, you will enjoy this," John soothed, kissed her shoulder. Kissed across her back. Then down, down. Licking along her spine as the caramel and the ice cream spilled, trickled on her bare skin. Moira shifted, arching, hips moving.

"John...I...um...I don't know if I–"

"Hmm...baby...pert little ass. That is all mine. Mine." He gently squeezed, licked down as she shifted, arched. "Wider. Open. Up. Side." He instructed her. "There." His hands slid between her legs, seeking access, positioning. Probing until she shifted, moaned. Lifting and legs opening to his persuasion. "Ah..." he breathed in pleasure, feeling her ready. Receptive.

Moira gasped as he slid into her. "How did you...John? Oh John..."

"Wider. Wider now. Up, baby, up to me so you can take all of me into that sweetness," he said, voice low, commanding. He thrust slowly, carefully as she squirmed awkwardly.

Moira whimpered, clutching the blankets, her body complying to accommodate him, even at this awkward angle. The sensations were vivid, familiar yet sparking new pleasures as he kept moving them in an ever increasing momentum.

John leaned onto her, kissing her. Turning her head to capture her mouth. The other hand catching a breast, cupping, kneading the nipple as he thrust, thrust. Slow. Deep.

"John, oh John..." she moaned, becoming inarticulate again. The angle odd but pleasant. The motions new but pleasing. She gasped as he shoved her thighs wider, lifted her to give himself better access. Deeper access as he increased momentum again.

John groaned, groaned. "Okay, just a sec...almost, almost...there...right there...up, wider, up now, all the way in you..." the rest was an inarticulate grunting as he thrust harder, faster. Moving in a sudden frenzy of lust, of need. Rocking her wildly.

Moira cried out, rocking as she was hauled to her knees. She grabbed the blankets but they slipped and slid under her. She searched for purchase, any purchase and grabbed the pipe on the wall. Was nearly pounded into the wall as he possessed, possessed her. The frenzy rapid, exhilarating as he moved faster, faster now. Shoving her nearly headfirst into the wall as his fingers dug into her hips, her pelvis.

John was groaning, grunting, wave after wave of tension, need making him ride her wildly. Thrust faster and faster. Shoving himself into her, the angle erotic, new as she clenched differently on him now. New sensations clinging, cloying to him but couldn't stop his rapid penetration. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck! Moira, wider! Wider! Every inch of it!"

"John! Oh John, John!" she stammered, voice a quivering sob as her fingers tightened on the pipe. As she tried to avoid hitting her head on the wall. She couldn't believe how big, how long he felt inside her. How hard as he relentlessly took her, as if he would never stop. Wild vibrations and the speed overwhelming. She cried out as the climax slammed, throbbed.

"Fuck! Fuck, that is sweet!" he exulted, arching into her, straining but feeling her tension. The frenzy erupted into spasm after spasm, releasing at last as pleasure flooded. Before he hurt her he slid out of her. Collapsed onto his back, breathing deeply. "Fuck," he muttered.

Moira freed the pipe. Fingers sore from clutching so tightly. She collapsed next to him. Closed her legs. Embarrassed, alarmed at the position. The complete possession. Her heart was racing, body still thrumming. She could still feel him. But he pulled her onto him. Grabbed her rear to squeeze, to grind her against him.

"Up...up now, baby..."

"What? John, do you have the hard-on of the century?" she asked, wide-eyed. Startled by his endurance, his demands. She felt him stirring under her. Seemingly insatiable.

He smiled. "Maybe. You keep it so hard all of the time, Moira. I'm going for a fucking record. Ride me. Hard. Take all of me in that sweetness, baby."

"No, not now! You can't–"

He kissed her as she squirmed. Held her so she couldn't move off him. "Oh, I can. Did you forget who you married? The sex guy."

"John! You can't possibly–"

"Oh, I can. At any position. Oh, did that startle you, my Moira?" He grinned. Rolled them so she was pinned under him. "Look, I don't know why it's not going down, or rather why it's not staying down for long. I only know it wants you, bad. Wants to fuck you over and over, as do I. Wants to keep having sex until we either pass out or go to sleep."

She pushed him. Hands splayed against his bare chest. "John? Are you all right? We don't have to do everything now. I mean we'll have the night to–"

He kissed her gently. Ran his thumb over her rosy lips. "Baby, I'm fine. It's not me, it's my cock. You and caramel kinky sex have put it into overdrive."

"Sweetie, I'm sorry. You need medical assistance, not more sex!"

He laughed. "I'd rather have more sex, baby." He smiled at her sudden gasp as he entered her again. Slowly, lazily sliding in and out with precision. "Ah...once more. Maybe this will get it down for a few, hmm? Slow and sweet for my Moira. And her gushing tight, hot little sweet piece of–"

"John!" she scolded, but moaned, relaxing somewhat as he kissed her. Created a gentle rhythm between them. "Oh John, John...that is perfect...oh John...yes..."

He smiled. "Nice, isn't it? For now. Ah, Moira..." He sped up a little, needing more. "There we go, baby. This should do it, for now. Otherwise we'll spend all night having sex. Not that I don't want to do that. We just need to..." He groaned.

"Better, John?" she asked, squeezing, clenching on him. As if trying to stop his repeated penetration. She kissed him, pulling him down to her. Sucked his lower lip. Circled his ear. His movements became faster, harder. Moira arched, clung. Swept away once more on the tidal wave of raw passion. She cried out as the orgasm sparked, bloomed. "John! John, John, John!"

He moaned as she came and went under him. Each sensation delicious. He moved faster, faster. Shoving her legs wider again. "Fuck! Here we go, baby, all the fucking way! Fuck, fuck, fuck! There!" He strained, spurted, finally releasing in a wave of pleasure. He shuddered. Fell upon her at last, spent. Drained. "Finally," he muttered proudly.

She smirked. "You didn't have to prove how lethal that ordnance is, sweetie. Geez!"

He tiredly laughed. "I'll be too worn out to go on that mission. Hey, was that your plan all along? Seduce me with caramel and then drain me with endless sex?"

She caressed his back, closing her eyes. "Only if it worked. Besides, you were the insatiable one. My God, John...the things you did, the way you took...John, I wish you didn't have to go. Even though I know you do. And you know it's a trap, still...I wish you didn't have to go. John? John?" She nudged him.

"Love you, Moira," he muttered, beginning to fall asleep.

"John! Can we at least go to our room?"

"No. Twenty. Thirty," he decided. "So tired, baby. Sex with Moira Sheppard is exhausting."

"No wonder, sweetie. And sex with John Sheppard is exhausting. And novel."

He laughed weakly. "Damn right. No more caramel until later."

"No more caramel ever," she corrected. "John..."

"Ssh...sleep a bit, Moira. My Moira." He settled comfortably on top of her. Let the drowsiness take him.

* * *

John stirred, rolled. Shoved up against Moira as she slept near him. He opened his eyes. Sat to see the room plunged into darkness. City lights blinked. Colors danced dimly. He yawned. Ran a hand through his hair. Rubbed his eyes. Checked his watch. "Shit." He looked at Moira. She was sound asleep on her side, facing him. Scooting to him now. Her arm draped over his leg. Hand sliding for his chest but encountering his cock instead. Taking hold of him.

Moira abruptly woke. Saw what she was holding. Saw John sitting, amused expression on his face. Loving gaze washing over her. The darkness of the room. "John?" She freed him, sat.

He laughed. "Again, baby? Just take the stick, please."

"Shut up, John! What time–"

"Better yet take it in your mouth again." He laughed at her flustered expression. "Are you blushing, my Moira?" He laughed at her consternation. "Oh Moira, that was the most exquisite, orgasmic thing when your luscious mouth went down on me and took–"

"Shut up, John! I can't believe I...then you..the way you took me like that...from behind and tipping me up and over and...shut up!" She hit his arm as he laughed.

"Too adorable, baby. Too much? You have no idea what else I have in store for you."

"What time is it?" she asked, ignoring the glint of sexual anticipation in his green eyes. The pure male predatory smile on his face.

"Eight. We were down for the count." He kissed her, caressed her arm, eyes wandering. "My Moira and her kinky caramel delights."

She smiled. "Hilarious, John." She sighed. "We should–"

"Get dressed, yeah. Face the music."

"Music?" she asked, watching as he pulled his clothes to him. "Wasn't this down time?" She regretted the words the instant she said them. As he turned to her, a broad smile on his face. Merriment and mischief in his sparkling gaze.

"Down time? Hell yeah, baby. Double down time. Down and deep, wasn't it? Down and hard. Next time I want you to go harder, baby, press those lips on me and take me all the–"

"John! I'm serious!" She hit his arm. "Stop it! Wasn't it?"

"I'm serious too, baby...always about sex. But yes," he answered, relenting. Pulled on his boxers, his socks. "But we've been gone for hours. Incommunicado."

"Will you get in trouble?"

"Probably."

"John? Really? Will you?" she demanded at his off-hand tone. He pulled on his shirt, stood to pull on his pants. Zipped. Buttoned. Fastened his belt. Turned to gaze on her.

"Are you going to get dressed, Moira? Or just sit there naked to beguile me? 'Cause if you want me hard that's a fine way to do it."

"Shut up! Answer me!" she flared, grabbing her clothes and pulling them on hastily.

He smiled. Watching. "No bra? We'll stop at ours first then. I'm not letting every man in Atlantis get a glimpse of those beauties bare under there. That's my purview. Don't you worry about the rest, Moira. It doesn't matter. Nothing, absolutely nothing is more important than our down time. Down, down, down," he said huskily.

"Shut up! It is!" She sighed, stood. Flung her hair behind her, lamenting the lack of a comb. "What do I have to do, John? Schedule our sex according to your fucking military regulations?"

"As long as it scheduled, baby, I'm happy. Repeated performances too."

She sighed. "Will you be serious for once?"

He pulled her into his arms. Kissed her. Held her close. "I am always serious about sex, Moira. You know that. Even when my cock isn't inside you. Oh wait, that's when I'm solicitous, right?

Wait, I'm confused. As long as my cock is deep, deep inside you we are both happy."

"I hate you sometimes," she grumbled, moving but he kept her close. Kissed her again. "John–"

"Especially, especially when it is. So deep inside you," he voice into her ear, hands sliding down to squeeze her rear, shove her against his crotch. "So deep and moving hard, fast...throbbing in time to your pulsing clitoris, your sweet folds encompassing all of me. Clenching on me every inch as I enter you, fuck I'm making myself hard this time. Feel it, baby?"

She squirmed, pushing but he kissed her. A long, passionate kiss. Melting her resistance, subduing her anger. His passionate gaze bore into hers. "John..."

"Better, baby. Are you wet again, baby? I so want those panties," he teased, hand sliding between her legs as he kissed her again.

She murmured, shifting, pulled back with an effort. "Stop it."

Her voice was soft, vulnerable. He smiled at her flustered state. "Do you really want me to stop? To stop it?" he asked, voice low, husky as it slithered over her skin. He licked his lips.

"I..."

He smiled, pushed her gently against the wall. Kissed her. Shoved his body along hers. "Baby, can you handle being married to me? The sex guy?"

"I...I..."

"You smell of caramel and sex, and vanilla and it makes me want you," he teased into her ear. Licked behind her earlobe, making her whimper. But she pushed at him.

"John, please..."

"Please? Please, what, Moira?" He raised a brow. "Hmm? What does my Moira want? I can guess. You've been coming onto me ever since you got back."

"What? I have not! You...well, okay, yes, but you...you are in fucking overdrive, colonel!"

He laughed. "Yeah. Well, no wonder. Let's go." He took her hand, pulled her from the room.

"No wonder? What the hell does that mean? John? John....John, we need–"

"Geez, Moira, you keep saying my name over and over like we're having sex."

"Shut up!" She sighed at his laughter as he lead her across the city. "Why are you like this all of a sudden? No, why are you like this now? John, you, you...the way you...I mean, you...look, I knew you'd enjoy that, the caramel and all, and the rest but then you...you...the things you..."

He paused in the hallway, having reached the populated part of the city. Turned to her and smiled.

"What? What is it now?" she asked, annoyed.

"You. So disheveled and flustered. So overwhelmed by my sexual prowess, aren't you? You are the picture of sex, baby. You are glowing with all of those orgasms I gave you. Fuck, you look ripe and ready still."

"John! You–" she protested but he pushed her against the wall. Kissed her. Opening her mouth to his. Tongue gliding, teasing. His body pressing on hers until he took a small step back from her. His hand sliding up under her shirt to grab a breast. To caress and knead the nipple into hardness. "John, John.." she gasped, tearing her mouth from his.

He smiled. Knew people were passing back and forth beyond them. Oblivious to them at the moment. "Good enough to eat, baby. To nibble. To lick, to enjoy for hours. Keep watch."

"Huh? You..." She started, a sharp intake of breath as he yanked up her shirt and leaned to kiss her bare breast. To nibble and sloppily suck as his fingers drifted down to her pants. She murmured, pushing at him, blushing furiously watching the people pass back and forth. "John!

John, what the...oh John...no...John..." she whispered, trying not to react, to not make a sound lest someone hear her, see them. Especially as he freed her breast to gaze upon it, then move to the other one. "John! No! You...oh shit! John, John, someone's coming!"

"Besides us?" he asked, but straightened, pulled her shirt over her breasts and turned to block any view of her. Smirked as she hit his back in reprimand. "Rodney," he said, voice calm. Betraying none of the merriment, the sly teasing, the taste of her in his mouth stimulating other body parts again.

"There you are!" Rodney said, glancing past him to get a glimpse of Moira. She was smoothing down her shirt over her breasts.

John glanced back at her, saw her nipples poking the fabric. Wet from his mouth the green material outlined very curve. He smiled, met her flustered, furious gaze. Turned back to his friend, taking a step to completely block the view of her. "And?"

"What? Oh, oh..." Rodney stammered, distracted. "Where have you been?"

"I was busy," John said, enjoying his friend's embarrassment. "Actually, we were busy. Very busy. You can't imagine how busy we were for hours," he continued. Did not react as Moira hit his back in reprimand.

"Oh. Of course. Its just been hours since you disappeared. Again, I might add."

"Down time. Down time," he repeated, drawing out the word. "Isn't that right, Moira?" He smiled as her nails scratched down his back. "Did I miss something?"

"No. We just wondered where you had gotten to again..for hours...hours?"

John nodded. Smiled smugly. "Hours. I could tell you but that's classified intel. You could ask Moira, though. She's eager to tell all about our ow!" She smacked his rear. "Or not," he amended with a smirk. "Do you mind? We were on our way back."

"Back? From where?"

"Classified intel. Moira?" He turned, grinned at her frown. He glanced down at her shirt. Met her gaze. "Even hotter when you are pissed, baby," he whispered. "Let's go." He pulled her past Rodney, who stared after them, shaking his head.


	7. Chapter 7

Mimicry7

Moira yanked her hand free and stormed into her room. She whirled as he followed, wolf whistling, then laughing. "John! What the fuck was that?"

He grinned. Stood watching her. "What was what? Oh come on, baby, that was just a little teasing, daring seduction is all. Hmm? And what should I have said to Rodney? We just had hours and hours of sex?"

"You practically did!" she accused, hands on hips. Glaring.

"Did I? Well, it was quite the event, no, quite the events, right? Can't a man brag about a conquest? About multiple conquests? About continuous, orgasmic, mind-blowing sex to make the walls shake? Tell me, baby, did you break that pipe on the wall?"

"Shut up! God I hate you sometimes!"

"That means I did it right, then, didn't I? Exquisitely so, judging by your reaction. Here comes the melodrama again." He folded his arms across his chest. Waiting. Amused.

Moira was silent. She moved to the table. Glared at the roses. Finding this romantic gesture to be completely incongruous with his words now, his actions in the love nest.

He eyed her rear, the fall of her hair down her back. Moved to stand behind her. He slid his arms around her waist, pulled her into him. "Well? Wow...no melodrama? That's a first, baby...but you do hate me, right?" He kissed her throat. "Moira, what then? The sex? Tell me."

"Oh? We can talk now?" she acerbically asked.

"Yeah, now. Now that coitus is done...at the moment." He kissed her throat again. Hands caressing her hips. "Moira's kinky caramel delight...I loved every second and so did you, baby."

"I wish you'd stop talking about it," she complained. Uncertain.

"Why? I like talking about it. It will get us both off, won't it? Hmm...now what? Shower? Sex in a bed? Dinner?"

"Don't you have to face the music?" she asked, catching his hands before they wandered to her crotch.

"Yes. But I'd rather face you. Or this position is good too. Wasn't it, Moira? That pert little ass in the air."

"Damn it! Will you stop thinking below the belt for once!" she flared, whirling to face him.

He shrugged. "Okay. Well?"

She shoved past him, sat on the bed. "Go! Just go, will you? I can't talk to you when your libido is in overdrive!"

He laughed. "Is it? I'm always like this, Moira. And so was yours." He sat next to her. Laid back and sighed. "Ah...this bed. Well? Talk. I'm listening. Above the belt at the moment."

She shook her head. Turned to view him. Her gaze wandered over him. He was so handsome, so irritating. She sighed. Debated. Watching him scoot up to the pillows. Relaxing. She sighed again. Unable to resist. Unwilling. She laid next to him, nestled close. His arm slid round her waist, caressing her lower back. She moved her fingers along his chest. Felt the wedding ring under his shirt. "John..."

"Finally," he grumbled, but kissed her brow.

She felt a surge of tears, hid her face against him. "John," she whispered, her voice muffled. "I have a, I have a bad feeling about this. This mission. Tomorrow. You. Ford. Whoever set the trap. You're about to walk right into it!"

He kissed her brow, lifted her face to kiss her lips, her cheeks. Tasted tears. "Sweetheart, don't you worry. I'll be careful, I promise. I'm not leaving you, Moira. I'll come back to you, I promise. We haven't tested chocolate yet," he added to lighten the mood.

She smiled, but hit his chest. "Be serious, John! I....I know what I said before...in the debrief about Ford...but truthfully? Truthfully I don't think he can be, be saved. Brought back here. As much as you want to bring that lost lamb home and be a good shepherd you can't. You just can't, John, can't take the risk, but I know you will. I know you'll do all that you can to save him, even at the risk of your own life. But you, you can't." She scooted, propping herself up on her elbow to view his face. "John?"

He was staring at the ceiling. Met her gaze with a frown. "I know."

She waited, but he said nothing else. Resumed his stare at the ceiling. Fingers still playing gently on her lower back.

"John? I just...the way you...the sex...it was like...like you were...we were having all that sex in case, in case something happened...I mean...I wondered, I...like you were, in case, you know..."

He met her gaze again. Studied her. "No. It wasn't goodbye sex, or in case something happens to me we're going to fuck our brains out sex. It was just sex, Moira. Our exuberant, passionate desire given free reign in the sex room. Nothing else."

"Oh."

He touched her cheek. Drew her mouth to his for a lengthy kiss. "My Moira. I desire you, baby. As you desire me. In ways you may not be familiar with, but you will be, have no doubt. Now come here, sweetheart." He drew her down to him, rolled so she was beneath him. He slid his mouth over her cheek, jaw, up her throat to nibble her earlobe. "Moira," he said into her ear, his voice a low, possessive growl. "I'm just checking for caramel."

She smiled. "Oh John...you got all of it, I'm certain. Every last bit. Everywhere."

"I need to be absolutely sure, baby," he teased. "Better now? I'll make it all better, baby, I promise. And I promise I'll come back to you. Always. Don't you worry, sweetheart."

She kissed him. "Okay, John."

"Okay, Moira. Moira Sheppard," he said warmly. Shifting on her, getting comfortable. Sighed. Rolled off her and flung his arm over his closed eyes. "I wish we could stay here but we need to have dinner. I need to brief the men on this mission and go over all the specs, point by point."

"I need to put on a bra." She sat.

He lifted his arm, opened his eyes to meet her gaze, her serious tone making him smile. "Do you? Not on my account," he teased, eyes lowering. The green material clinging to every curve, every swell. He ran his fingers over a breast, hand cupping, thumb rubbing until the nipple hardened into the palm of his hand. "You could always lose the shirt too, baby. In fact I'd prefer that."

"Hilarious, John." She batted his hand off her, leaned down to kiss him. "Let's get moving, soldier!" She sprang off the bed, entered the bathroom after grabbing a bra from the dresser.

John sighed, stretching languidly on the bed. "Moira!" he called. "I've changed our schedule. Sleep. Sex. Dinner. Sex. Shower. Sex. Sleep. Sex. Okay, baby?"

"Hilarious, John!" she called, stepping out of the bathroom and moving to stand at the bed. She secured her hair into a neat ponytail. "John!"

He pouted. "I don't want to move, Moira. And we'll just be interrupted. Hey, sweetheart, go get me a beer and a burger. And double fries since you always snurch mine."

She laughed. "Is that an order, colonel?"

"Yes. Now move that pert little ass and get my food! Double time!"

She shook her head. "I don't think so, colonel. Now, unless you want to deploy that considerable ordnance this evening you will get that fine, fine ass off my bed and accompany me to dinner like a gentleman. Now!"

He laughed, sprang off the bed. "Yes, ma'am! And it's our bed. Ours." He followed her out of the room, swatting her rear. He laughed as she whirled.

"John Sheppard!"

"What? Move it, baby, I'm starving!"

* * *

Moira sighed. Stood waiting, glancing round the physics lab. It was a maze of desks, equipment. A stack of ZPMs stood to one side, all depleted but cannibalized for parts nonetheless. Computers dominated, lining the desks, the tables. One large screen glinted in the soft lights.

"Moira! Sorry! I was finishing dinner, here." Rodney hastened towards her, talking round a mouthful of food.

"So was I," she noted, "but I finished. What is it?"

"This." He pointed at his desk, walked round it and cleared a space to deposit a strange-looking machine, a mixture of Ancient tech and a DVD player.

"That? Your DVD player?" she asked.

"What? No! But yes, I have finally re-booted my DVD player and the pixel quality is amazing! No, that. That!" He gestured impatiently.

"The paperweight?" she asked, following his wiggling fingers to the tiny device poised on the computer.

"Yes. Pick it up. I think I fixed the problem, the crystals you jiggled loose."

"I didn't jiggle any crystals loose," she argued, but lifted the device. "Rodney!" She set it down as the little light blinked blue. A rapid sequence, then went dark.

"No, no, no, no, that's impossible! Touch it again!" She did so. Nothing happened. Rodney lifted it. "What the...that's impossible! It shouldn't have done that!"

"Done what? Rodney? Rodney, did it transmit a signal?" Moira asked. She stared at the little device worriedly.

"No! I mean, maybe....no! Damn this technology! It's beyond ours, Moira! Nearly beyond me, but I swear it can't transmit anything!"

"To Ford? Rodney, John's going on that mission tomorrow!"

"I know! Let me think...let me think..." He turned the device over in his hands, peering at it. As if he could discern its circuitry and intentions. "In any event there's no way Ford could ever breach the city, Moira. No way. If it did send a signal all he knows is that you are here. Which means...which means..."

"What? Rodney, what does it mean? Unless...he must know that John is on the way."

"Yes, with two full teams. What the devil is that kid up to?"

* * *

John tapped the wall screen. A three-dimensional hologram of the village and its environs blinked to life. Outlined in green and red. Further markings in blue denoting distances and other natural impediments. The many trees and rocks. "We'll set a perimeter here. Do not approach the village. My team will be the only one making contact. At this juncture we will assume that the villagers are hostile and are to be treated as such. We have no idea how many hostiles are on the planet, but we do know one is a highly trained individual. Organized. You all heard our standing orders?"

Murmurs of assent filled the room as the marines all sat at attention. Expressions serious.

"Our first priority, our only priority is to contain Ford. Capture him if we can. Eliminate him if we can't. Obviously we would prefer to take him alive, but our priority is to contain him at any costs. Understood? Any of Ford's associates or accomplices are to be met with deadly force. Questions?"

"No, sir." Several voices. Solemn. Grave.

John could see their dismay, their reluctance. "I know what you're thinking, but you are wrong. Ford is no longer one of our own. Not any more. He is too dangerous to be left out there roaming the galaxy at will. He presents a clear danger to this city, to our people. You have your orders. We leave at oh seven hundred. Dismissed." John folded his arms across his chest, watched his men file out of the conference room. All but one. "What?"

Ronon shrugged, waited until the last marine had exited. He stood. "Nothing. Just...I know. How hard it is to deal with a traitor. When one of your own turns on you."

"It's not exactly like that," John temporized.

"So you say. But still...you have no option but to take him out."

"I know. That's what I just said. Do you have a point, Ronon, or are you just trying to start an argument?" John snapped.

Ronon smiled. "No. No point. Only I know. How to deal with traitors."

"Oh. Good to know. Dismissed. Go!" John gestured. He shut down the map, stood staring at the empty screen. Hearing footsteps he sighed. "I told you to...oh...sorry!" He caught himself, seeing Elizabeth enter the room.

"John? I just heard. About the third team. I think that's an excellent idea."

"Thank you. With Caldwell breathing down my neck I can't afford to make any mistakes. You'll still have functioning teams and security in the city won't be compromised."

"John, I know you understand the gravity of this situation."

"Yes, and I won't let him slip through my fingers. And I won't do anything reckless."

"Good to know," she echoed his words. They smiled. But her smile faded. "I wish there was another way. It's bad enough to lose one of our own...it happens far too frequently. But this...it's worse. I'm sure you already know that."

"Yes." John refused to be drawn into the conversation, any conversation about Ford. Except with Moira.

"I can't imagine what he's been through. Being transformed by the enzyme. Being on the run from the Wraith, from us. Forming his own unit to fight the Wraith, to fight us, even." She sighed. Smiled briefly. "Remember how excited he was, going through the 'Gate. Like a kid in a candy store! Everything was a marvel to him. So many possibilities. Although he was terrible at naming things. Do you remember–"

"I'm not doing this," John noted sourly. "He's a threat to be eliminated. End of story. Excuse me. My wife," he paused, stressing the word almost aggressively, "is waiting for me."


	8. Chapter 8

Mimicry8

Moira was staring at the data screen, making notes next to it. Leaning across the table to peer at the digitized images frozen on the screen. Her hair was loose, swirling around her shoulders and down her back. She was gnawing on her lower lip, nibbling as she concentrated.

John stealthily neared, silent as a cat, waiting, waiting. Eyes roving over her as she hastily made notes, advanced the images ahead a few frames. Chewed on her lower lip. She made a soft, soft murmuring sound in her throat, unaware of it as she was engrossed in her work. He smiled, drawn irresistibly, aroused. He leaned close to her ear. "Boo."

"Shit!" Moira nearly jumped out of the chair. Her pad flew across the table, the pen after it. "John!" she scolded as he heartily laughed, straightening as she turned in the chair. "You son of a...what are you doing?"

"Me? Scaring you, apparently." He eyed the screen. "What had you so enthralled you didn't even feel me behind you? What is that?" He pointed.

She smiled. Reached across the table to retrieve the pad, the pen. "_Deinotherium giganteum._"

"Oh. The tusks are coming out of the chin...but it still looks like an elephant," he noted, resting a hand on her shoulder as she turned back to the screen.

"True, sweetie, but it's not. Not an elephant, a true elephant, not a member of the Elephantid family. This specimen is a proboscid, a relative. The diversity of the trunked mammals was astounding, John! Today on Earth only the elephantids exist but once there were several species! Deinotheres, mastodons, mammoths, gomphotheres but you don't want a lesson in the evolution of trunked mammals and elephants now do you?" she realized, switching off the screen and turning to view him.

He smiled warmly. "Ah...no. Not tonight, sweetheart. I had some other things in mind for us to do."

"Oh?" She tilted her head, eying him up and down. "Whatever could be more fascinating than the evolutionary development of the proboscids?"

He smirked. "This." He drew her to stand. Pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Suddenly hoisted her onto the table, making her laugh. He shoved the data pad, the papers out of the way and leaned into her, pushing her onto her back and kissing her deeply. Hands running up under her shirt, her bra. "Fascinated yet?"

She smiled. "Oh yes, sweetie, very." She pulled him to her. Kissing him. Running her mouth up to circle his ear, to gently nibble, making him moan. Her thighs parted as he stepped between them, pulling her to the edge of the table. "John...John, how did the brief go?" she asked, but gasped as his nibbled up her throat, to her earlobe. Gently, very gently bit. "John!"

He smiled, amused at her surprise. Her thighs closing on his legs a moment. "Ah, baby...none of that. Just this. Only this."

She gently shoved him, sat and slid her arms around his neck. Legs wrapping around his thighs to keep him in place. "John...do you want to talk about it? I know this isn't easy for you. I know you feel conflicted, I know–"

"If you know all that why do we need to talk?" he countered, kissing her. "I don't want to talk. I want sex. Only sex, baby."

But she pushed him again. "No, John, you can't deflect your conflicted emotions into sex. You need–"

"Yes, I can, Moira. I want–"

"You need to discuss this, sweetie. What you have to do on this mission. John," she continued, ignoring his scowl, "don't lock it all up. You can trust me, sweetie. You can tell me–"

"What? I know my mission, Moira, and I know what needs to be done. End of story. I don't want to talk about it. If I do...I will. With you. I want sex, Moira. I want your love for me. I want your desire for me."

She sighed. "I just want to help you, sweetie, I just want–"

He kissed her, pulling her to her feet. He spun her. Then kissed her deeply. So deeply, tongue thrusting as he yanked her against him. Then he bent her backwards, dipping her to angle her crotch to his, to feel his growing hardness. His erection poking into her cleft.

Moira murmured, tightening, flooding. Grabbing his arms before she fell but she knew he wouldn't drop her. She gasped for air as he freed her mouth, swung her back up to stand on her feet.

John smirked at her flustered expression. "That's how I kiss my wife. Hope you can handle it, baby." He caught her hand, pulled it to his erection. "And you will handle this. Tight. Tighter."

"You...you want me to take the stick, sweetie?" she asked, breathless. Still dazzled by the kiss.

He smiled. "As hard as you can, baby. As deep as you can. As many times as you can." He shoved his hand between her legs. "Ah baby...I can feel your wetness even through this!"

"John! John, damn...you...John...that, that kiss...that..." she stammered.

He pushed her backwards, backwards, onto the bed. Following to pounce on top of her. He shoved up her shirt, her bra. Kissed her breasts, caressing, kneading. Tongue swirling the hard nipples to make her moan and arch. "Rough," he instructed. He yanked down the zipper on her pants. Unbuttoned. Shoved his hand in to ply her panties as her legs parted.

"John!" She squirmed. Whimpered and pulled his hair as his mouth pulled, pulled at her breasts. Gently bit a nipple. As his fingers all but drove into her, trying to get through the lace fabric impeding him. She lost her breath, gasping as he freed her to move down to the scar. "John? John, oh John..."

"Moira," he growled huskily, rolled to yank off her pants, her panties. He crumpled the lacy material in his hand and shoved them into the pockets of his pants.

She hauled him up her body to kiss, kiss, her mouth devouring his. Open to his questing tongue. She kissed along his jaw, up his throat, circled his ear and gently bit to make him groan. She nibbled down his throat, making soft sounds as he undid his belt, pants. Unzipped them. The sound made her even more desirous. "John, oh John...John, please...I want you inside me," she wooed hotly. "I want you rock hard all night."

"Fuck," he muttered, unable to pull down his pants and shorts fast enough. Her fingers slid up under his shirt, across to his back where she ran her nails down sharply. Further into his pants to grab his rear and squeeze, startling him. "Fuck!" he exclaimed, so aroused he thought he'd burst. Instead he entered her. A rough thrust into her ready opening.

Moira moaned, cried out as the sensation of his full hardness filled her. She clutched, clung. Legs bending, thighs widening as he began a determined rhythm. "Oh John! Oh John, John!" She tried keep her voice quiet as the sensations grew, grew. As he brought her closer, closer.

John groaned, straining and tensing. "Tighter! Tighter!" he ordered. Grunting in pleasure as she clenched over him, making him fight his way with each thrust. Accelerating the pleasure, the sexual drive. His motions harder, faster. "Fuck! Fuck! Moira, Moira, so fucking sweet!"

"Shut up, John! We have to be quiet!" she scolded, but whimpered as he was stroking, stroking every sensitive fold, every single spot to make her quiver with need, with pleasure. She clung, clawed. Arched and lifted as he pounded, pounded into her. The bed rocked. The headboard slamming the wall faster, faster. Moira cried out, unable to contain herself as the rush of orgasm was almost violent, ruthless. "John! Oh John, John...oh God! John, please, John!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he groaned, riding her wildly now. "Moira, tighter! So fucking tight now!" he growled loudly, then breathed deeply as the rush hit him, the swift release. Orgasms and spasms colliding in both of them as he gave himself over to the thrusting frenzy. "Moira! Ah fuck that is so sweet!"

"Ssh!" she warned, but whimpered helplessly as he brought her again, over and over as his movements sped up, then finally slowed, slowed. She freed her grasp on his shoulders as he strained, spurted, and fell upon her with a shudder. She tried to catch her breath. "John..."

"Ah baby...fuck!" he exhaled happily. "Damn Moira, I do like sex with Moira Sheppard. Fuck! Even without the caramel."

"Hilarious, John." She kissed his brow. Caressed his back under the shirt. "We...we were too loud!"

"I know."

"You know? You...it's not funny, John!" she chastised, pissed at his smug tone. He laughed tiredly against her skin. "John! Shit, it's not funny! Half the base probably heard us come!"

"I'm sure they did, Moira."

"John! Damn it! They don't even know that we're married! So we–"

"So?" He lifted his head to view her angry expression. Passion in her brown eyes unabated by her scolding. "They know we're dating, right? They know we're having sex. Are you saying that exuberance is only acceptable if they know we're married?"

"Yes! No...yes! We can't be so loud, John! Especially since they don't know–"

"You think I care anymore, Moira? I don't." He kissed her. Rolled off and sat. "Get undressed. I want you naked now. Even the socks have to go." He grinned. "As funny as that is."

"John!" She watched him yank off his shirt, toss it carelessly to the floor. She sat, touched his back, ran her hand up and down. "At least I didn't scratch you too badly this time."

"The night is young, baby," he teased. Turned to her suddenly. "I do like the nibbling. And the biting...could be a little harder. On me. I won't bite you hard."

She shook her head. "No. I never was this kinky."

He laughed, delighted. "Good! Only kinky sex with me. Only any sex with me. Moira, all sex with me. We're married, you know."

"Are we, John? Sometimes I wonder," she grumbled, "but that goes for you too. All sex with me. Only me."

"Of course, sweetheart." He leaned over to remove his boots. "Get naked. And seriously, bite me harder. Claw me. Tighten on me as hard as you can."

She sighed. "I don't want to hurt you, John."

"You won't hurt me, baby. Trust me. And I'll never hurt you."

Moira pulled off her shirt, her bra. Looked round to see her pants flung at the end of the bed. "John? Where the hell are my–"

"Panties? Mine."

"Still? You still have this bizarre fascination with my–"

"Yes, so get over it, baby." He stood, pulled off his pants and shorts. Socks. Lifted his boot. Aimed. Threw it across the room at the light panel. Hit it dead on to turn off the lights. He smiled. "Did you see that, Moira? That's skill!" He turned as the city lights cast golden gleams across the darkened room.

Moira had slipped under the covers. Was languidly playing with a strand of her hair. "Yes, John. There's nothing wrong with your precision. Or dexterity. Or skills."

He grinned, slid in next to her. Moved over her. "Ah, yes...hey! I said no socks!" he scolded, feeling the fuzzy material on her feet.

She laughed, running her hands along his arms, his chest. "Get over it, flyboy. Like you even notice my feet anyway."

He laughed. "True. There is so much more to notice," he agreed. He kissed her, stroked her hair. Tangling his fingers in it as his kisses grew deeper, deeper. "Moira...my Moira...I want to fuck you until sunrise."

"Lovely, John...such a romantic," she quipped, moving under him. Already responding. She felt him stirring against her.

"Hey, sex guy, remember? Wider...wider," he encouraged. "Hmm..." He looked around the room.

"What?" She drew his face to hers to kiss but he lifted up again. "John? What is it?"

"I was just thinking..."

"Oh oh. No. No more kinky," she warned.

He smiled. "Ah, come on, baby! I live for kinky. Let me see..."

"No, John! Do you have to be so...inventive?"

He laughed. "Yes, baby. I like to find new ways to bring you. To make you melt in a helpless puddle. To give yourself to me completely," he said low. "To make you weep for sheer pleasure. To feel that hunger that only I can assuage."

"Wow. John..." she whispered, pulling him closer. Kissing him repeatedly until they rolled . She sprawled on top of him, mouth sliding along his jaw. Circling his ear. Down his throat. Down his collar bone. Shoulder. Chest.

John sighed happily, hands stroking her skin. "Keep going, baby. That feels exquisite."

She ran her nails down his chest. Then up and down his cock. He groaned in pleasure. "Do you like that, sweetie?"

"Yes, God yes! Harder now. And no sweetie during sex," he reminded.

She smiled. "Sorry, John." She kissed along his pelvic bone. Nibbled. Down his thigh. He shifted. "Do you want me to ride you, John?"

"Yes, Moira. Hard. Ride me hard."

"So hard you'll think your cock broke off inside me?" she teased, sliding her body invitingly along his.

"Yes! Oh yes, baby...please..." He scooted them up to the headboard. "Hold onto this and ride me hard, baby. Wide. And loud, loud and exuberant."


	9. Chapter 9

Mimicry9

John Anderson was strolling down the hallways. He yawned, blinked wearily. He had been working on a technical glitch in one of the city's secondary operating systems, and had finally found the problem. A minor circuitry error that was easily fixed once located. Slinging his data pad under his arm he strolled towards his room. His lanky form creating thin shadows streaming behind him as he crossed under the lights.

He yawned again, but froze, hearing noises. He paused, listening. Odd sounds. Feminine. Masculine. Rising and falling in an odd crescendo. He resumed walking. The noises became louder. Yet more indistinct. Sounds without context, without meaning. Crashing together and apart. More intense now, sharper. A woman's cry, as if in terrible pain.

John increased his footsteps, nearing the source of the sounds. As they became louder. Louder. A grunting strain. A whimpering sob. Another quivering cry. Then to his astonishment his name. He dropped the data pad. It clattered noisily to the floor but he had already broken into a run towards the desperate plea.

"Move, move, move can't you hear that?" he exclaimed, shoving past a marine who was quickly striding away from the sound, appearing both decidedly uncomfortable and amused.

"Oh shit, hey, you can't–" the marine tried to warn, but smirked as the skinny technician ran past him into the darkened hallways.

"Moira, Moira, I'm coming!" John shouted, recognizing her voice as strained and hampered as it was by all of the other sounds. He flew to the room, having no idea whose it was, and waved his hand frantically in front of the panel. The door opened. He charged into the room. "Moira!"

And skidded to an abrupt halt.

City lights gleamed golden from the window. Gleamed upon the bed and its two vigorous occupants. Locked in an exuberant, passionate coupling. The woman on top, riding the man. Legs splayed to either side of him. Hair wild, swirling around her, on her naked skin where sweat glinted. Her bare back arching, bare rear clenching. As the man's fingers dug into her hips, her rear. She was leaning slightly forward, hands clutching the headboard of the bed, arms stretched out tautly. Bare breasts bouncing, the nipples hard points peeking through her hair. Sweat trickling between them, all the way down to where the man was thrusting up eagerly into her. Her up and down motions frenetic, wild, slick with sweat and sex.

The man beneath her. Knees bent slightly to support her. Sweat glinting in his dark chest hair, the dark hair on his arms. His hair wild, mussed. His strong, lean body arching up into hers with each thrust, each motion taking him deeper, harder into her. Faster as he grabbed her rear and all but shoved her onto him, plunging into her fully. His handsome face contorted in pleasurable strains, in orgasmic sensations. The woman's head falling back, hair swirling as she cried out his name, lost in ecstasy, emotion, climax.

Until he blurted her name.

Moira froze, voice caught in mid-cry, the whimpering, breathless exultation of pleasure. She looked over, stared with wide brown eyes, so astonished she couldn't move.

John groaned as she stopped, but then the voice registered and he turned his head to see the technician staring, open-mouthed. It took a second for the man's identity to register. John's hands gentled on Moira's hips, rear. "She meant me," he said hoarsely, as if the mistaken identity was nothing unusual, nothing awkward.

At John's voice the spell broke. "Shit!" Moira scrambled off him, causing him to moan as he slid out of her. She fell to the bed, covered herself and blushed furiously, mortified. Horrified.

"I...I...I...I heard...I heard...I...thought...you sounded...you...oh God, oh God, oh God..." John Anderson rambled, shaken, startled, shocked. Babbling as his brain finally registered what his eyes had been seeing. Realizing what the sounds had been. Not a struggle. Not pain. That the John she had been almost screaming for was not John Anderson, the hapless technician. But John Sheppard, the man on the bed who was eying him with an unreadable expression.

John licked his lips. Sat, not bothering to cover himself as his erection faded slowly, nearly sated until they had been interrupted. Feeling Moira beside him, huddled in the blankets, hiding behind him in the darkness. "As I said, she meant me. John Sheppard. Not you," he explained slowly, as if talking to a child. "You can go now."

"I...I...I...didn't mean...I...thought...I heard...oh God, oh God, please don't kill me! Please don't kill me, sir, sir, I didn't know, I didn't know you...she...I...I heard..."

"We're married," Moira squeaked, peering over John's shoulder as he blocked the view of her.

"Are you going to make me get up out of his bed and escort you to the door, because if you do then yes, I will kill you. GO!" he bellowed, pointing at the open doorway.

Gulping a squeal the technician bolted. Ran back to wave the door shut, then ran up the hallway for his life.

John was torn between being pissed or amused. Tension and hilarity collided, not to mention frustration. He chose the latter and snorted. Trying not to laugh as he knew Moira would not have the same reaction. Nevertheless he gave in, laughed heartily. Felt Moira scrambling and caught her arm, stopping her. "No. No fucking way, baby."

"John!" She stared as he turned to her. "John! It is not funny! Oh my God! John, stop it!" She hit his chest, his arm but he continued to laugh. "Damn it! It's not funny! I told you we were too loud! Damn it, John, we can't keep having sex like that! John! John, it's not funny! He saw! He saw everything! He saw me! He saw me–"

"Fucking the life out of me, of you, yes, baby, I saw it too...fuck you were so beautiful in that light as you came, so fucking beautiful I ache for you to do it again."

"John! John!"

He saw she was close to tears, and kissed her. Moved her onto her back, slid over her and kissed her again. Stemming her sorrow, her embarrassment, her dread. "Ssh, baby. Doesn't matter."

"Doesn't...doesn't matter?" she asked, outraged. She shoved him but he refused to move. Was angling along her body, aligning his cock with her cleft now. Their sweat and sex mingling. "John! John, he–"

"I know, baby, don't you worry. I'll take care of it." He kissed her. Nibbled up her earlobe. "It makes me want you. We didn't quite finish, did we? From now on you better start calling out John Sheppard, huh?" He snorted a laugh but Moira shoved him off her.

"Fuck you! John, it does matter! It...wait, wait, how are you going to take care of it? Are you, are you going to kill him?"

He rolled on top of her again. "Do you want me to?" he inquired mildly, as if he didn't care either way. "Hmm...imagine if he'd seen me taking you from behind...that pert little ass, oh, he did get an eyeful of that, didn't he? Fuck...now that does piss me off...that is mine alone. I'd like to take you against a wall, or the door so rough, rough on your sweetness."

"John! No...I...I don't want you to kill him," she answered, not certain if he was serious or not. Felt a weird thrill but dismissed it.

"Oh. Okay. What do you want me to do, then?" he asked. Kissed her. "Is it rough, Moira?" he asked suddenly, switching back to his other topic. "Does the door rub you raw in the front as I take you from behind? It is rough rubbing your sweet little cleft, that suckable little nub as I thrust you repeatedly into the door?" he asked, body sliding along hers.

She squirmed, thighs opening despite everything as she felt him harden along her. Sliding teasingly along, but not entering her. Not just yet as she flooded in response. "John! John, I, I..."

"I thought so, baby, so fucking rough on your sweet, sweet spot it brings you twice, doesn't it?" he asked. "Tell me what to do about this Anderson situation and I'll do it." He kissed her deeply.

Moira gasped in a startled whimper as he slid into her. A quick thrust to make him groan. Then he slid in and out, in and out, slowly. Excruciatingly slowly to tantalize, to tease. To prolong the foreplay before the inevitable rush to climax. "John...oh John..."

"I need an answer, baby. What do you want me to do?" He groaned. "Ah God...this will be the mother of all orgasms if I can keep it this long...just remember, John Sheppard. Oh John Sheppard so we can avoid any other Johns from entering. I'm the only one entering Moira...our room, I mean," he smirked.

Moira hit his arm, but clutched. Angered by his flippancy but aroused wildly by the sexual dance he was initiating, controlling. "John...oh John...please...just...just..." It was difficult to concentrate on the problem as he was giving her such waves of pleasure, promising motions to culminate in a burst of orgasm that was hovering, hovering. "Just fuck me, John!"

"Fuck you? Okay, baby...but who? John who?" he teased. His tongue glided over her breasts, savoring. Toying with each nipple.

"John Sheppard, you bastard! John, oh John!" she cried, but muffled her cries against his shoulder as he moved a little faster, harder, sliding up to her, into her.

"Ah Moira, this is too fucking beautiful, oh God...hold onto the headboard, baby..." he warned, straining as he was coming too fast. Nearly grimacing with the need to rush, to release.

"John! John, don't hurt yourself," she advised, moaned in ecstasy as each motion rippled waves of impending pleasure. "John! John please!"

"John who?" he asked tersely, a shudder running along his frame as his cock all but demanded he take her now, take her hard to achieve fulfillment.

"John Sheppard, Sheppard, Sheppard!" she moaned.

"Fuck, oh fuck, I can't hold it like this here we go baby tight as you can," he said, rushing the words together as the throbbing was nearly unbearable, but exquisite. He thrust hard, deep, groaning in relief as his body took over, directing his actions. Pure need driving him to accelerate the intercourse, to fuse their bodies into one. A rushing, rocking, primal passion.

Moira was inundated with him. She cried out his name, forgetting to add his last name as her voice went higher, higher, winding with his groans and grunts. She melted under him, a sobbing mess of sex and lust and passion as the bed rocked wildly, the headboard slammed the wall endlessly. The wood splintered on one side with a loud snap that startled her and only compelled him to drive into her. "John!"

"Sheppard!" he added. "Fuck! Moira Sheppard, fuck the cock off of me, baby!" Her sounds keeping him hard, her body luring his to never leave, to never stop the vivid sensations until she cried out wildly as the climax took her, shook her. "Ssh, ssh," he warned, but groaned in unison to her as the release drained him. He slowed, abruptly stopped. Fell upon her in a spurting mess of spasms. Jerking inside her still, balls tingling. Exhausted. At last sated.

Moira caught her breath, sobs intermittent. Pleasure overwhelming. The feel of him amazing, huge, hard. Rubbing her raw with passion. She tried to relax but couldn't as her breath came and went harshly. As murmurs and whimpers still escaped her parted lips. As thirst clawed her throat. As she felt him still inside her, but receding at last, softening. Fading.

John longed for a beer. For any liquid to quench his parched throat. Even her soft sounds were prolonging his erection, but sheer exhaustion finally made it fade. Pleasure rolled over him. Pure male satisfaction. He relaxed, breathing easier. Sprawled on top of her. Hot, so hot. Sweaty and parched. Sticky. He lifted, slid out of her. Rolled onto his back, and groaned as muscles protested the vigorous, exuberant sex. "Fuck. Fuck," he muttered happily, wiping his brow. "Moira...whatever you have in there besides me, keep it. So lush, so fucking lush! And those sounds you make...it's your mouth, Moira. Even the soft ones...they turn me on like nothing else ever has."

Moira was staring at the ceiling, flushed. Amused and pleasured. But embarrassment covered her. Recalling their loudness, their noisy enjoyment of the sex. The vigorous sex, unabashed, hungry. Repeated. John Anderson's blundering interruption. What he had seen. She felt hot, blushing furiously.

"Moira?" John rolled onto his side, staring. Her hair was a wild mess. Sweat glistened on her skin, all over her body. Other fluids spilled from one to the other. Onto the sheets. "Sweetheart? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

She licked her lips, met his concerned gaze. "No." She swallowed. Her voice soft, weak. "No, John...I...I've never had such..."

"Me neither, baby, not like that," he agreed. He scooted close, kissed her gently. "Moira?"

"Oh John, what is this? I mean...what is this?" she pondered, staring at the ceiling. "I've never...well, you know...I only had a few, few...the things you do to me, with me...the...John, how can you give me such orgasms? Each time it's different, amazing...so pleasurable, so sexual that I can't even...I didn't even know what I had down there until you discovered it..." She heard his snort of amusement, but continued, "I'm serious! I can't breathe half the time you are fucking me. I can't speak! I can't even..."

"Me too, sweetheart," he soothed, slid his arm over her waist.

"No, you don't understand, you've had lots. Lots some women so you know, you obviously know what to do, how to do it...exactly where to do it and when and how to make it last so long, so long...I feel like I'm going to die, John! I 'm going to die of pure ecstasy every time you fuck me! Every time you make love to me! It's escalating still! How can that be?"

"Hell if I know," he muttered, nuzzling her throat. Pressing his body to hers. "Sleep, my Moira. Just enjoy it, every bit of it." He closed his eyes, exhausted. Blissful.

"How?" she pondered. "You...your mouth, your tongue...your lips...everything...every part of you plays on me, John...every part of me plays on you." She stroked his arm as his breath slowed. Tickled her throat. "John?"

"Sleep, Moira. We can find my cock later," he mumbled.

"John! I can't handle this, John. Not like this. We need to slow it down. We need to stop having sex."

"No."

"John! I can't–"

"You can. Believe me, you can, Moira. And what about me? Me and my poor ordnance?"

"Oh please!" she scoffed. Turned to him. Nestled against him. "John...should you lock the door?"

"No...we're quiet now. Sleep. Next time I'll keep a gun on the table and shoot whoever interrupts our coitus."

"John! I'm serious!" She sighed. Stroked his chest. Secure in his arms, in the darkness. Under the blankets. "John..." she hesitated as he made a sound of annoyance. "Tell him."

"Huh?" He opened his eyes. "Tell who what?"

"Um...tell John Anderson. That we...we're married. Okay?" she asked in a small voice. Blushing again.

He smiled. Kissed her. "Fine. I will. Don't you worry, baby. I'll handle it." He settled. Closed his eyes. Relaxing into the weary afterglow. The warmth of the blankets. Of Moira's naked body pressed to his.

"And John?" He made an annoyed sound again. She ignored it. "Don't kill him."

He snorted a laugh. "Okay, Moira. I won't kill him."


	10. Chapter 10

Mimicry10

John woke. The sound of the alarm a distant, tinny noise rattling in his ear. He was spooned against Moira. Smiled feeling her rear shoved against his crotch. He gently kissed her shoulder. Carefully scooted free, sat and shut off the alarm. He saw the splintered headboard and smirked. Held in his proud laughter. He stretched, slipped out of the bed. Gathered his scattered clothes and headed into his room. Loving how it was only a threshold to cross. No more hallways to traverse, excuses to invent.

Moira stirred, hearing the sound of water. She fell back asleep, cuddling in the blankets realizing that John was in the shower. Until the silence woke her. She sat. "John?" She scrambled out of the bed, pulled on a nightshirt and ran into his room. "John!"

He turned, standing at the bed. Showered. Clothed. Black t-shirt, black pants. Jacket. Boots. Shaven. He was checking his sidearm, holstered it. "Sweetheart? Go back to bed."

"No." She moved to him, touched his arm. "John, why didn't you wake me? Don't you want me to see you off?"

He smiled. "You already saw me off, baby, repeatedly." At her scowl he added, "And no. That is I'd rather do our leave-taking here. Privately. You could have remained naked," he chided. "In fact I was rather counting on it."

"Hilarious, sweetie!" She hugged him, kissed him. "John...be careful! Ford...he's not the man you remember! Not any more! And his allies, his enemies, his...whatever...John, they–"

"I know. Don't you worry, sweetheart. I'll come back to you." He kissed her for a long moment. Kept kissing her as he guided them towards the door. "Moira..." He caught her hair. Fingered the soft, tousled strands. "Don't you worry, sweetheart. I know what I have to do. And I'll come back to you. And if there is any flak at all from Anderson you let me know. You let someone know, okay?"

"I...I...um..." she faltered.

"I know, awkward. But I'll handle it if it becomes too awkward. Stay here until I'm gone. I prefer to keep this image of you in my mind...along with last night. So fucking hot as you rode me, baby, rode me so hard I–"

"Shut up, sweetie!" She kissed him. "John, be careful! Be–"

He pushed her against the door, kissing her deeply. "Moira," he smiled. Then was gone, out the door and closing it before striding down the hall. Swaggering with remembered pleasure, pride.

* * *

John entered the Jumper bay after a quick breakfast. He nodded as the marines snapped to attention, awaiting his commands. "You have your orders. Lorne, remain cloaked on our six. Torres, keep a circling orbit and a constant scan of the planet. Do not engage unless ordered. Reynolds, take Delta on the perimeter. Ronon and I will hit the main village. Remember your orders. I want this done clean and quick."

"Yes, sir!" came the chorus of voices.

"I'm sure he's eager to get back here," voiced one. The comment hung in the air, suddenly audible to all. A hush fell at the humorous opinion.

John casually turned, eyed the man who had spoken it. Sternly viewed the now wide-eyed, beet red lieutenant who was gulping at his overheard remark. A few muffled laughs snickered at his expense, but were stilled as John's eyes narrowed into green, harsh slits. "Oh? And why would that be, Lieutenant Stillson?" he mildly asked, quickly deciding how to handle the apparent gossip of being overheard last night.

"Um, sir...I...I just meant, sir...to, to complete the mission..." the man stammered. Looking round for help, but the others were studiously eying the walls, their boots, their guns.

"Yes? And?" John let the word hang in the silence for a few seconds. "Oh! You must be referring to my spectacular send-off last night? Would that be it?" The lieutenant turned a shade redder. A few laughs were quickly stilled. "Yes, I see. Yes, it was quite...quite...spectacular," he boasted. Laughter erupted fully all around him, a release of tension. But it was silenced a moment later by John's cold, cold glare. "And if I catch a word, a look, a glance, a thought directed towards Doctor O'Meara you know what will happen. Does the name Parrish ring a bell? Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" they chorused. One saluted.

John nodded, glanced at Ronon who was watching. Expression unreadable but merriment danced in his eyes. John sighed inwardly, could only imagine what his friend would say when the two men were alone. "Let's move! To your ships! Dial the 'Gate!"

* * *

Moira sat in the cafeteria, breakfast done. Drinking her orange juice as her mind roved over John. The erotic night. The dangerous mission on which he was engaged. The awkward and mortifying interruption by John Anderson. So far she had not seen him. Could not face him. Blushed at the thought.

"Wow. You must be thirsty."

Moira looked up as Julie Armstrong smiled, sat across from her. Katie Brown joined them. Moira shrugged, but felt her blush continue to warm her cheeks.

"I have to know...was it really that...amazing?" Julie asked.

"Julie! You'll embarrass her! You can't ask her that!" Katie flared, coloring herself.

"What?" Moira asked, as if she had no idea to what each woman was referring. Realized the gossip, the stories had made the rounds already.

"What? Come on! I thought so," Julie nodded. "Your um, your audible performance was just to you know, encourage him...keep him going, as it were," Julie guessed. "I mean really, no one is that good, that–"

"John is," Moira corrected simply.

"Really?" Katie blushed. "Wow! I mean..." she stammered.

"So, what are we talking here? One really good–"

Moira smiled. Could imagine John's amusement. Smugness. "Multiples."

"Multipu....are you kidding me? So you weren't–"

"Exaggerating? Faking it? No." Moira sighed, but smiled. "You see...it's simple, really. There's sex. Then there's sex with John Sheppard. Unlike anything I have ever experienced."

The two women stared, spellbound. Until Katie gulped. "Really?"

Julie grinned. "So we've heard. Really? He's that–"

"Yes, and more. I'm talking a whole new level," she boasted, surprised at her brazen assessment. "A whole new skill set. I mean...he's done things with me that I never thought even possible, even thought of at all! I..." She stood. "I've got to get to work."

"No! I mean, please, continue! I'd like to hear more. Besides," Julie added with a sly smile, "I'm surprised you can stand after last night." They laughed.

"Me too," Moira agreed, causing more laughter. She sighed, shook her head. "We have got to be quieter," she grumbled, evoking more merriment as she left her friends and headed for the biology lab.

* * *

The ships exited the wormhole. Becoming invisible they swooped to either side. One to rise into orbit above the planet. The other to monitor the perimeter. John landed his ship. The men exited. At a gesture the two marines ventured to take point. Ronon stood next to John as he cloaked the ship. Eyed the wormhole as it dissolved into nothing. Hefted his P90.

John tapped his earpiece. "Report. Lorne, copy?"

"Various life signs, sir. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Torres?"

"Nothing in orbit, sir. No ships."

"Good. Comm silence unless necessary. Sheppard out." He started to walk in the direction of the village. "Let's go see if the villagers are home. Stay sharp." Warily he scanned the trees, the dense terrain. Boots scuffing the dust, the dirt on the well-used trail. "Say it."

"Say what?" Ronon asked, walking alongside his friend. Hand on his gun.

"Come on. Just get it out of your system now, would you?" John snapped. Mindful of a trap at any moment just waiting to be sprung he kept his voice quiet. Gaze sharp as he viewed the area. Listened for any sound. He slipped his free hand into his pocket, smirked feeling the lacy texture of Moira's panties. Withdrew his hand before his thoughts and memories drifted to the exuberant, vigorous sex. "Well?"

"Well what?" Ronon asked, knowing exactly what his friend expected but being coy about it.

John softly swore. Tapped his earpiece. "Finch, anything?"

"No, sir. Perimeter's clear so far."

"Hang back. We'll catch up to you and take point." John waited until he had reached the two marines. Had moved ahead of them with Ronon. "Well? I know you want to say something. About it. Me. Moira. Us."

Ronon smirked. "Oh. That. Impressive."

"Damn right it was, wait! What?"

Ronon laughed. "At least that's the story. Impressive. You two."

"Oh. Well, it was. Damn impressive." John stopped suddenly. Held up his hand, halting the men behind him. He pointed left, right, ordering flanking positions. He scanned the village, eyes narrowing. It was quiet. Empty. A lone breeze blew leaves across the graveled walkways. "On my mark," he ordered quietly, clasping his P90 securely. "Chewie, stay." John strolled into the village. "Ford!" he shouted. "I'm here! I got your message! That was sloppy, Ford! Not the work of soldier at all!"

John paused by the center square. Looking round the buildings. All appeared deserted. Desolate. As if the villagers were hiding, or something worse had befallen them. John circled round the square. "Ford!" he shouted. "Removing your dog tags? What are you now? Some raw, patsy civilian?" He climbed the steps to the open surface, presenting a perfect target. He turned slowly, slowly, scanning the buildings. "Ford! I haven't got all day, damn you!"

He descended the steps. Sighed. Still alert he tapped his earpiece. "Reynolds, report!"

"Nothing, sir. No one. It's like the planet's been abandoned."

"Lorne?"

"Nothing on visual. Life signs in the hills, due west. No 'Gate activity. Could be another goose chase, sir."

"Torres?"

"Silent as the grave, sir."

"Shit." John considered. "Hold position. Close the perimeter. We're spreading out due west."

"Yes, sir. We cop–" Abruptly Jason fell silent.

"Reynolds? Rey–" Gunfire.

John whirled. "Fall back! Find cover. All teams to my mark now!"

Suddenly a flurry of bullets pinged. Lasers flashed. John dove behind the pedestal, crouching. Peering round to fire at the building where gunfire erupted. He heard a man groan. "Close positions! Lorne, take them out!"

"Approaching vector sir oh shit!" Evan had to swerve the ship as a missile was headed their way. He dropped the cloak, raised the shield. He almost cleared the object but it still managed to scrape a drive pod. The ship was rocked but the shield held. "Sir? Incoming, sir! Bogeys on the move, fast, fast, fast! Too fast!" He flew lower to intercept.

"Sheppard!" Ronon bellowed, but was pinned down yards from his friend. The bullets were flying wildly, but the lasers were the true danger. Shattering rocks and buildings. Setting fire to the trees surrounding them. "Get down!" he shouted as the two marines tried to return fire but were hampered by a burning tree. Ronon fired his big gun, blast after blast. "Sheppard!"

John gauged the distance, knew he wouldn't make it. "Get to the 'Gate! Now! Block all egress!" he ordered, whirling on his knees to fire his gun at the nearest building. A man fell back, but another took his place. Lasers pinged. Chipping away at the statue on the pedestal that was starting to lean. Would fall on him at any moment. "Lorne!"

"Little busy, sir," Evan replied, dipping low and firing on the outlying buildings. Another missile was launched. "Shit! Target that shed, now, once we've lost this tail!" He was forced to fly high, away from the village to elude the missile and then spin to destroy it.

Explosions rent the air. Bursts of shrapnel falling to the ground. Another tree was ablaze and crashed, sending sparks and flames in all directions. "Sheppard!" Ronon bellowed, diving towards him but having to crawl back, firing his gun all the while as the fire, the lasers blocked him. One zinged his arm but he merely snarled, slapped at the burning flesh and kept firing on the enemy.

"Sir! Ship approaching from orbit, far side of the moon! Sir!" Juan Torres announced, glad his ship was cloaked. Nevertheless he took evasive action as the size and make of the ship alarmed him. "Colonel Sheppard? Orders, sir?"

John was busy trying to save his own skin, order his men, and figure out what the hell kind of trap this was as he dodged another bullet, ducked to avoid another laser and scrambled out of the way as the statue toppled. It crashed to the ground, raising a cloud of dust and plaster. John blinked, coughed, used the quick diversion to dart around the pedestal and crouch once more. Firing on more targets as they emerged from the buildings. "Torres! Do not engage! Head for the 'Gate and keep it secure! Go!"

"Colonel Sheppard, target is eliminated! On my way!" Evan announced, swerving and heading back to the village. Only to have a host of alarms sound. Only to encounter enemy fire from above him now. "Oh crap, what is this now? Bogeys on high! Orders to engage? Torres, what's your twenty? Torres, oh shit!"

Evan watched in horror as the third Jumper suddenly appeared in the atmosphere, trailing a stream behind it. Then erupted into a violet explosion. "Sir...sir..." he stammered, staring in disbelief. In shock as a larger ship was descending now through the clouds. The outlines of which were scarily all too familiar.

"Colonel Sheppard! Men down, sir, disabled! Sir!" Jason rolled, came up firing and leapt out of the way as another burning tree nearly crushed him. He whirled but a blast of laser fire crumpled him to the ground.

Ronon charged into the square, bellowing fiercely, firing his weapon and ignoring every bullet that stung him, every laser that nearly singed him. He headed straight for John but was caught up short, staggered as a stun weapon repeatedly hit him. Forced him to his knees, then to the ground.

"Torres! Lorne! Reynolds! Ronon! Copy? Anyone copy?" Chunks of masonry flew, nearly hitting John but he ducked, dove, rolled. Came up firing but a blue electrical field engulfed him. Shocked him. He grimaced, recognizing it. "Crap," he whispered. Staggered and fell. Lost consciousness as the battle raged around his now inert form.


	11. Chapter 11

Mimicry11

Sheppard strolled through the city of Atlantis. An arrogant swagger marking his footsteps as his boots trod the hallways. An almost contemptuous sneer on his lips as he stared round. Finding the lack of security pathetic. Amusing, even. Finding this Atlantis oddly familiar, yet oddly different. Discordant, even. The number of civilians milling around. The lax marines passing him and nodding. But not with enough deference. The quiet harmony of a city at peace, a populace not poised on the brink of war. Not yet.

He entered the lower levels. Touched the panels, entered his security codes. Like magic the doors opened, and he smiled. All too easy. No matter what reality they were in apparently the John Sheppards all thought alike, or at least had the same security codes. He approached the Ancient Chair device. It was shrouded in darkness. Neglect, almost. Sheppard shook his head. Knelt, squatted and opened the lower panel. Inserted the data and locked it, using a code he instilled with a pattern his fingers played across it.

He stood. Strolled along, nodded at few people. Smiled as a few women gave him an appraising, welcoming gaze. At least some things were the same in both cities. He entered the cafeteria, as if he had all the time in the world. He couldn't remember the last time he had fresh food. So many choices arrayed before him. He grabbed a burger. Almost felt lightheaded as he snatched a bottle of beer. He took a table, ate greedily. Slurping his beer in long, deep swallows. Envying his other self the easy life he had. All the things he no doubt took for granted. Had no idea how easily he could lose them. Sheppard smiled. He would learn soon enough.

"John? I had not realized you were back."

Sheppard glanced up to see Teyla standing, looking him over with a speculative gaze. He wiped his messy mouth on a napkin. Noting the differences. This Teyla's hair was longer, lighter. She wore Atlantis BDUs. He shrugged. Arrogance tempered by caution. "Yeah."

"And Ford? Is he..." she hesitated. Cocked her head. Something was odd but she couldn't figure it out. Realized if John had had to resort to extreme measures he might be acting oddly as a result.

"Contained," Sheppard answered. Voice gruff. He downed his beer. "You're not with the Athosians then?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

She stared. "No...I have not been to their settlement in a few days. Why do you ask me that?"

"No reason. Huh." He stood. "Guess it hasn't occurred to you yet."

"What hasn't? Colonel?"

He was walking away from her. Called over his shoulder, "That you've abandoned your people for these creature comforts and a chance to explore the galaxy."

"What? I...of course not! Colonel! Colonel!" she called, outraged, but he was gone, walking out of the cafeteria with long strides.

Sheppard paused, scowled at a marine who straightened, marched down the hallway. He paused again as a beautiful blonde woman was eying him with an inviting smile. He smirked, decided to play. Walked over to her as she shifted her stance. Giving him the best view of her full breasts encased in a salmon top. Her hips filling out the gray pants.

"John, I hadn't realized you were back," Susan Williams purred. She touched his arm. "Are you feeling all right? You look...different."

"Do I?" he asked. "You busy?"

"Me?" She seemed startled by the question. "No, not really. Do you need something, John?"

"Yeah. I do. I better take the edge off before I reach her."

"What? I don't understand. Reach who? What edge?"

Sheppard smiled. "Oh you will. Susan, right? Yeah...but mine was a real slut. Are you?"

Susan's eyes widened. "What? Excuse me? You–"

"Let's find out." He hauled her into the nearest room, not caring whose.

"John? John, are you...I thought you were dating...I thought..." Susan stammered, but the rest of her protest was lost as Sheppard kissed her. Shoved her into the wall and thrust his mouth on hers. His tongue shoving into her mouth as his hands ran over her clothing.

"Get your clothes off. Now!" he ordered, stepping back only to undo his belt. His pants. Nearly laughing at the absurdity. The sheer boldness. The sheer havoc this would create for his alternate self when he returned. If he returned.

Susan was staring, stunned. Aroused. She quickly obeyed, removing her clothing. Finding his approach unusual. She had believed he had been with that other woman, some biologist or other for months. But here he was. Demanding. Rough. She touched his arm, gaze lowering as he freed himself from the confines of his shorts.

Sheppard's lips quirked. He wasn't quite hard enough. Not yet. He let his gaze travel over the naked woman waiting for him. Her voluptuous curves. Heavy breasts. She was almost panting in anticipation and it both amused and reviled him. He grabbed her shoulders, shoved her to her knees. "Do me. Now. Then I'll fuck you to get the edge off. Now!" He all but shoved her face into his cock. He tensed, groaned as she eagerly took him into her mouth. Sucking hard. Making him harder, harder. He watched her. The motion of her lips, her mouth around him. He patted her head, touched the blond hair with almost gentle concern.

Susan found herself shoved back. He slid out of her mouth, fully erect now. She was hauled up, slammed into the door and cried out as Sheppard thrust into her. She squirmed, breath coming in gasping whimpers, not quite ready. But Sheppard didn't care. Ramming into her, hard, fast, pinning her to the door. Both arms flung to either side of her head. Legs splayed wide as he pounded up, into her. "John! John!"

Sheppard grunted. Taking what he could. Envying his other self this too, but not as much as he envied him Moira. Having Moira. Still alive, still his. Now his wife. No doubt enjoying every conceivable pleasure with her. Only her.

"John! John, please! Please, enough!" Susan whimpered. Her climax coming and going but he seemed oblivious, intent on his own pleasure. On something else that was turning the sex into anger. Turning pleasure to pain. She cried out as he bent to suck her breasts, to bite her nipples so hard he broke the skin. "John! Please!" Susan cried, suddenly fearful, shocked. Wincing as he rammed into her with almost brutal violence.

Sheppard lifted his head. "I thought you liked it rough, honey." He thrust hard, groaned as he came. Slid out of her and snatched her shirt off the floor to wipe himself off. He tucked himself back into his clothes. Fastened his pants. "Oh...shit, I forgot. I'm married now."

"Wha..wha...what?" she asked, staring in complete disbelief.

Sheppard smiled. Moved her away from the door. "Yeah, that's right. I'm married to Moira now. But ssh...don't say a word. And thanks." He kissed her cheek. Exited the room.

Susan stared at nothing. Dumbfounded. More shocked by his words than by the sex.

Sheppard almost laughed. He felt sated. Relaxed. It had been awhile since he had indulged in that kind of activity and he could only imagine the fallout from it. Not that it mattered. He anticipated seeing Moira. Having her back as his. Keeping her this time. Indulging in such activities with her, but with her he would be gentle. Loving. Giving as well as taking.

* * *

Moira sighed, procured another slide. "It's funny, Carson, but these Wraith shouldn't by all accounts exist." She turned in the chair to see the doctor inputting data on a computer.

"I know, love, but they do. And if we can decipher their genetic codes just maybe we can figure out why. Not to mention how."

"We always argue over the how so let's concentrate on the why," she commented, eliciting a smile from him. She shook her head. "Carson...do you think John is–"

"Fine. Don't worry, Moira. He's highly trained, and perfectly capable. Plus he's got a lot of men with him, doesn't he? And Ronon. I expect he'll be back soon."

"I hope so...I just...this whole thing with Ford...it's..."

"Yes." Carson sighed, met her gaze. "Aiden was such a lovely lad. A nice young man, eager to serve, to explore the galaxy. He had a great sense of humor too. He was a hard one to lose. The enzyme has irrevocably changed him, I'm afraid. He's beyond our help."

"I know...and John does too. Still...he'll try to save him. If he can."

"Of course he will, love. But he knows what to do. John isn't a fool."

Moira nodded. Turned back to the microscope, stood. "There are better samples in the bio lab. I'd like to show this to Peter. He's a biologist and will have a different perspective."

"All right. Maybe he can see something we can't."

Moira exited the infirmary, made her way to the bio lab. She stopped. Turned. Heard a woman's soft sob. Then silence. She continued on her way, not wanting to intrude. She turned again, hearing someone but there was no one behind her. She waited, eying the dark corners. Suddenly dreading if John Anderson was following her. Dreading meeting him. Seeing him. She whirled, resumed her quick walk to the lab.

Sheppard smiled, stepped out of the shadows. Gazing on her. Seeing her alive and well again made his heart race. Not his Moira, but John's. For a little while, at least. He enjoyed watching her walk, stop, turn. Stare but not see him. Turn and walk quickly. The pants hugging her rear. Outlining every curve, every swell as she moved. Making his fingers itch to touch, to squeeze. His felt his cock reacting and smirked. Headed a different direction from the one she had taken.

He entered the physics lab, emboldened by his own success. Walked over and snatched the tiny tracking device.

"What the...John? Back already? What about Ford? What the–" Rodney stammered, glancing up from his work, then back again.

But Sheppard was already exiting the lab. "Ford's contained, Rodney. Get back to work!"

"Oh, fine! That's it, then, is it? You caught the guy and now onto the next disaster? Fine, I've got this calibration to set up so leave me alone!" Rodney returned to his work. Paused. Looked back at his desk. Noted the absence of the device. Frowned in thought.

Sheppard headed for the bio lab. Footsteps quickening in anticipation, in enjoyment. He nearly collided with an older man who was heading for the same lab.

"Oh! Colonel Sheppard, sorry, I was–"

"Crap." Sheppard grabbed him, cut off his oxygen. Disabled he dragged the unconscious man to the shadows. Stowed him there. He stepped quickly around the body, headed for the lab. He paused. Stood in the doorway. Smirked. Made the sound of footsteps, pretending to be the man he had intercepted.

"Peter? Good! Come look at this!" Moira invited, not looking up from the microscope.

Sheppard stood unmoving. Letting his gaze dwell on her a moment. Letting her be oblivious to her fate. Letting her believe that all was well, that she was safe for a few more moments. The ponytail snaking down her back. Down the white shirt tucked into her khaki pants.

Moira sat back from the microscope, changed the slide. Immersing herself in work as she worried about John. The mission. Ford. She peered intently. Bit her lower lip, gnawing, but paused, freed it remembering John's teasing words. She frowned. "There's still no change. Even at this micro chemical level. No cellular degeneration at all! Even of the species which doesn't prove a subspecies but perhaps a convergent evolutionary line. We've seen two subspecies already, if you will, because of the varying contributors. The Iratus bugs and the humans, proto-humans. What if there are more? Probably dead ends but all containing the similar genetic material, the same DNA coded for this development?" She waited. Waited. "Peter? I know this isn't your exact field of discipline but I would like your input just the same. I believe we have enough evidence to at least postulate the theory of Wraith cross-species contact. Peter?"

Moira looked up from the microscope. Stared round the empty room. "Great, I'm talking to myself now," she muttered. Sighed. Turned back to the microscope with a shake of her head. Switched off the light. She felt eyes on her. Turned. John lounged in the doorway. "John? What are you..." But her relief, joy evaporated. She knew. Despite the similarity of clothing. Despite the unkempt hair, the handsome face and form. He had a haggard expression. Shadowy stubble lining his jaw, chin. Amusement and arrogance mingling. His gaze hard. Harder still as her joy, her love dimmed. Dimmed.

Moira scrambled to the comm on the wall, hit the button. "Security! Security to bio lab two! Security! It's not John! It's not–"

At the same instant Sheppard saw her realization. The warmth stealing from her brown eyes. He lunged towards her, crossed the room swiftly. Grabbed her. Pulled her back against him, slamming his hand over the comm. The other clamping over her mouth. "Now, now, Moira, is that any way to greet your husband?" he teased. Voice low, harsh.

Moira struggled, struggled. Disbelief almost overwhelming her. She pried his hand off her mouth with both of hers. "You! You were following us! You were the eyes on me! The twig! When you heard I was help! Help me! Help!"she cried, but he covered her mouth again. His other arm around her waist so tight she could barely breathe.

His voice rasped in her ear. Lips nearly brushing her skin. "Yes. Let me tell you, Moira, that shocked the hell out of me. Sorry, but you're still coming with me. I need you. I couldn't turn you over to him but I'm not leaving without you."

Moira struggled, clawed, kicked. Tried to bite as the door whisked open. Sheppard turned with her still locked in his arms. But freed her mouth to pull out his gun, a swift motion as marines filed into the room. Rodney on their heels. "Rodney! It's not him!"

"Colonel Sheppard?" a marine asked. The men hesitated, guns lowering.

"John? When...oh no! I knew it! Something was off! Something...it's not John! Shoot!" Rodney exclaimed, pointing, staring at the mirror image of his friend. "You took the device!"

"Good to see you too, Rodney. And thank you. I figured that John would have destroyed it, but you...you kept it. Had Moira activate it and let me know she was still in the city. Thanks."

"What? I...oh no. No, no, no, no...shoot him! That's not Sheppard! Not ours!" Rodney's guilty lament turned to anger. "Give me a gun! Shoot him! He's an imposter! A multi-verse version of our Sheppard but he's not our Sheppard!"

Sheppard smiled. "You'd still be firing on your commanding officer, and that is a no no. Thanks again, Rodney! I couldn't have planned this without you. Gotta go."

"Rodney! Shoot him!" Moira cried, struggling.

"Bye." Sheppard tapped a box on his hip. A blaze of light enveloped them.

A gun went off. The bullet flew through the empty air where Sheppard and Moira had been standing.

"Shit. John's going to kill me," Rodney observed.


End file.
